


Recovery

by sh_wright890



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bassist!Jean, Bisexuality, College Student Armin Arlert, Connie likes basketball, F/F, Guitarist!Ymir, I cant believe I'm just now adding these tags, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jealousy, Jean plays baseball, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Marco is a gymnast, Masturbation, Private detective Mike Zacharias, There's so much cussing, Trans Male Character, Weight Issues, Ymir is a little sister and must be protected, Ymir's last name is Gray just cause I'm not that creative, band!au, cliches, drummer!Eren, homophobic slur, pansexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sh_wright890/pseuds/sh_wright890
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren, Jean, and Ymir have been friends since the misfits found each other during college. Years later, they still live and play music together in their band Idiot Genius. Things are a simple kind of perfect, but nothing can stay the same forever. Small things--receiving a letter and meeting a fan--end up becoming more than just something small coincidences. Soon enough, the three find out things aren't as perfect as they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jean

In my life, the only thing I ever did wrong was be me. My parents wanted a perfect son, so that’s what they got. I got straight As, I played varsity baseball, and I was always being invited to parties and such. I never got into trouble, I got along well with my little brother even though he could be a literal shit at times, and I never broke curfew without a valid reason.

You’d think with all this being really good I’d get to have something to myself. But the answer to that is a big, fat no. The answer to that was a palm to the cheek and a fist to my gut. The answer was raw throats and my mother’s tears, her pleadings of, “Stop, Jordan. Please stop, oh God. Jean, why? Why?” The answer was my feet hitting the pavement as I ran with a small bag away from that nightmare I thought I called a home.

All these answers swirled in my mind until it became a question of how do I forget? I hid out at a friend’s house and finished out my high school days behind a forged smile and the bottom of a bottle. Valedictorian. Pitcher for the team. No curfew. No brother. 

My one sin was kissing a boy on another baseball team after a tournament. 

He went to all the camps like I did, and I saw him all the time. He had these eyes that reminded me of dark chocolate and a smirk dirtier than his pants after sliding to a base. I was totally intrigued by the few freckles on his back and shoulders. Cheeks, too. 

This sexual tension--at least on my end--had been going on for a good three years before he finally gestured for me to meet him in the dugout after the game. I did, and after most of the people cleared away, he pushed me against a wall and kissed me roughly and sloppily. 

I didn’t think anything of it once we parted, but once I got home, I was met with the wrath of my father. A friend had taken a picture of us and tagged me in it online. 

I still think about all of these things. Especially when I sing certain songs I wrote in front of others. Like I was doing now. Eren was sitting somewhere behind me playing the bass drum quietly so as not to overpower my voice, and Ymir was drumming her fingers on her guitar. It wasn’t a loud song, but it seemed to echo in the bar the way a coin dropped into an empty jar does.

All the eyes are on me. If I mess up, they’ll all know, but I don’t care. This isn’t about them. This is about me. These songs are my redemption, and I’ll be damned if let something as stupid as stage fright make me fuck them up.

Almost too soon, my voice has dissipated, and the people clap as I stand up from where I had my legs dangling off the side of the stage and grab my bass. The cheering dies off, and we’re into our next song. 

We aren’t exactly the most well-known band in the area, but we do a decent job. It’s enough to scrape by. The three of us live together in a not-so-shitty apartment downtown over an art shop. The place was cheap and near all the venues we could possibly perform at around here, so Ymir jumped at the opportunity.

The three of us were like a dysfunctional family. We all had some severe damage, and relapses did happen, but we were there for each other when shit did go wrong. I was almost all the way through my first semester at college when I met Eren. He was literally a mess like I was. Both of us were self-medicating for the shit that had happened to us, and we met because he was using  _ me _ to do so. 

We were at a bar. I was still drinking at that point, and I saw him in the corner with a couple curvy women draped over him. Even though they were obviously vying for his attention, his eyes scanned the room until he saw me looking at me. His grin reminded me of that one boy  from before but more dangerous. 

I wanted him, but I didn’t.

Since being thrown out by my parents I hadn’t been with anybody. Not even as much of a kiss. Nobody intrigued me very much, and we all know what happened the last time; I didn’t feel like getting fucked over again somehow when it hadn’t even been a year. 

Mere seconds after seeing me, he stood up and brushed the women off him like they were flies. His gaze was predatory as he made his way toward me. It felt like he could see through me and uncover every filthy part of my soul. I kept my gaze on the glass in front of me. It was my third, I think. Maybe fourth. I couldn't remember. And then he was  _ right next to me _ , and I didn't know what I was supposed to say. Did I have to say anything? It'd be rude if I didn't. 

I turned to tell him something along the lines of, “Sorry, I'm not interested,” but the words never got out. What came from my lips was an embarrassing squeak muffled by his lips.

This kiss wasn't like the other one with the other boy. That was teasing and playful and relatively innocent. This was different.  _ This  _ was a statement. 

_ I want you, _ his fingers whispered as the brushed over my arm and made goosebumps rise.

_ Come to my place, _ stated his tongue as it traced my teeth and elicited a pitiful moan.

_ Make me forget, _ his eyes screamed as he pushed me back on his bed.

_ I'm not okay, _ his body whimpered.  _ I need help. Make me forget. I don't want to feel this way. _

It wasn't until the next day that I realized he had all this pain, and I felt horrible--hangover aside. 

He had his clothes on when I woke up. I personally felt very vulnerable and open, and I hated it. I pulled the covers up around me tighter as he drank coffee from a styrofoam cup and flipped through a magazine. “You’re finally up,” he commented as he flipped a page. “It’s already noon.”

I sat up and rubbed my forehead. “Shut up,” I grumbled. Shit, my head hurt like hell. I needed a drink. 

“Rude.” He flipped another page. “I even got you coffee since I figured you’d need it.” he tapped his finger against another styrofoam cup that looked like it came from the lounge in my dorm.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” I looked out the window. The outside looked familiar but different enough that I wasn’t able to place it. “Where are we?”

_ Flip. _ “Man, you must always be drunk or something. How do you even pass your classes?”

“Says the slut,” I retorted. God, why did I fuck this guy? He’s so annoying.

He shrugged lightly, showing no emotion. “You’ve got your coping mechanisms, and I’ve got mine.”

I heaved a sigh. “Where are we?” I reiterated.

“We’re in the dorms.”  _ Flip. _ “Baseball kid, huh?”

I glanced out the window.  _ That’s _ why it was so familiar. I was just looking at the buildings from a different angle. “Wait, you go to college here too?” 

“Yep. Have for awhile now--thanks for noticing.”  _ Flip. _ To the magazine he muttered, “God dammit. You can’t stay out of jail for a full month.”

I cleared my throat and rubbed my forehead. Some ibuprofen would definitely be appreciated. Flopping back on the bed, I closed my eyes and wished I’d gotten hit by lightning when I was three. 

A noise to my left made me lift my head again. “Here, Jean.” He’d set the cup of coffee on the bedside table. I sat up again, and he settled criss-cross applesauce on the foot of the bed, facing me. 

“Why do you know my name? Have you been stalking me or something?”

He shook his head. “No, not stalking you. You just interest me, I guess. You look like somebody that was a mama’s boy, yet here you are, drinking your liver away. Why?”

I picked up the coffee and looked down at it. There was no lid, so I watched the dark liquid swirl around, so I wouldn’t have to look at him--his gaze was just too… intense. “I guess I was a mama’s boy, but my dad didn’t like… something I did.” I shrugged.

“You are such a pussy.”

My head snapped up, and I almost got some coffee on my still-bare belly. “ _ Excuse _ me?”

“I didn’t stutter. You’re a pussy--a wimp. You’re literally throwing your life away because your daddy disapproved of you. Are you stupid? This is college--another chance--but instead of utilizing it, you’re being a little baby.” He shook his head in mock disapproval.

I huffed and put the cup on the bedstand again before I spilled it. “Then why the hell are you sleeping around, huh? As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as bad. I drink, you have sex, so take your self-righteous opinions and shove them up your ass.”

“Unlike you, I have nothing to lose.” He rubbed at his forearm absently.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

He seemed a bit taken aback by my sudden change in inquiry. “Eren Jaeger.”

“Eren, everybody has something to lose. It’s just a matter of realizing what that something is.” 

I realized I was talking to myself as well as him. I had my name, my story--my past--my future, and everything else I couldn’t think of right now. What even was the point of doing what I do? What happened happened, and I couldn’t take it back. I couldn’t reverse time no matter how much I wanted to, and moping served no purpose but hurting me. 

Eren seemed to see the wheels whirring in my head, and he stuck his hand out. “Jean Kirschtein. You help me, and I will help you.”

I stared at his palm for a moment before I shook it firmly. “Deal.”


	2. Eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was controlling my lack of control. It made me think I was in control when I really wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I'm going to try to have a song for each chapter since an assignment for a class has me totally intrigued on finding music that matches conversations, people, and events. This one is Goner by twenty one pilots. It literally came on right as I was finishing the chapter, and I thought it was absolutely fitting for Eren.

 

My life began the day it ended.

It was a quiet ending and a noisy beginning. I was found in my bathroom against the bathtub with my arms shredded to ribbons. I honestly can’t remember how I got in that exact position. All I remember was being upset over the anniversary of my parents’ death. I’d been cutting for almost a year, but I knew my limits, y’know? Not too deep. Not too much at one time. Keep them covered so others don’t see. 

I was controlling my lack of control. It made me think I was in control when I really wasn’t. Just one more cut--only one. I kept making compromises with myself. I kept thinking I was okay. I wasn’t.

Anyway, I woke up with people around me talking loudly about blood transfusions and stopping the bleeding. There’s another gap after that before I remember waking up in the hospital with heavily bandaged wrists. I decided then that I had to stop.

Even though I did my best, I still had relapses sometimes. Usually, I was able to pull myself out of it, but there were times when I did need help, not that I’d ask for it. The last time I’d needed help, Jean was there.

I’ve always been addicted to something or other. When I was little, I was addicted to eating peanut butter. As I got older, it was soda. After my parents died it was cutting, and after that it was sex.

Yeah, I admit it. I used people to make me feel better. I fucked them and tossed them aside without a second thought since they made me forget--even if it was just for a night--that I was totally screwed up inside. Unless it was totally dark, I kept my arms and tops of my thighs covered out of fear that they’d see them and throw  _ me _ aside or worse--ask questions. 

Anyway, when I met the horse-faced asshole, it was my mom’s birthday. Or it would’ve been if she was alive. What better way to spend it than in bed with another person?

I was picking my prey when I saw him. I hadn’t ever been to this bar, but he looked like he frequented it often. Smelled like it too when I passed him on campus. He smelled like a walking mini bar all the time, so it wasn’t hard for me to figure out that he was an alcoholic. 

I kind of resented him when I first laid my eyes on him. It was because of people like him that my parents were gone. They were run off the road by a drunk driver late one night. The cops came to my house once they were identified--the next morning. 

I  _ wanted _ to use him. I wanted to make him feel like shit when I threw him aside. It didn’t even matter to me that he had his own issues. People that turn to alcohol are fucking sick. It clouded their sense of decency and muddled their thoughts. Those cowards didn’t want to think. They didn’t even care. It disgusted me.

But--and this was a big one--I realized he really didn’t do anything. When he was drunk, he never drove, he never bothered people, and he always showed up to class on time--even if he was wearing sunglasses and ended up swallowing a dozen painkillers by the time class was over. I couldn’t find a reason to hate him, and that irritated me even more.

The night spent with him was like almost every other I’d spent with those other people except he could barely keep it up, and he obviously a newbie. It was somewhat quick and painless, and he fell asleep shortly after. I stayed up for a while after, thinking. Always thinking.

Anyway, he knew I was using people somehow. He didn’t even ask. It was like he just knew, and that got under my skin more than I cared to admit, but I can say I was surprised when he started acting like a jealous boyfriend.

I didn’t bother to hide that I was going out, but as I was leaving, he’d say things like, “Guess I’m not good enough for an obnoxious prick like you,” or, “Don’t come back smelling like a whorehouse.” It got on my nerves to no end, and most nights I threw  _ him _ onto the bed and fucked him senseless. I felt kind of bad afterward, especially when he would be back to the mildly-moody-Jean instead of the dick-asshat-Jean.

I didn’t think too much of it when he was dick-asshat-Jean since he was cutting back on his drinking so much that I was surprised he hadn’t had a damn seizure yet. Obviously, he couldn’t stop completely, but I felt like his mom in a way. He had little to no appetite and lost what little fat he had on him, so I had to constantly remind--read: force--him to eat something even though he was nauseous. He was often disoriented, had headaches, and didn’t sleep if at all--symptoms of alcohol withdrawal.

So I understood why he was a literal dick a good majority of the time. That didn’t mean he didn’t piss me off. 

It wasn’t until a rainy day about two weeks after he was working on quitting that I actually found out why he was being weird and possessive when I was leaving.

I was laying on my bed with Jean in an almost perpendicular position with his head on my stomach. I was reading some boring ass textbook as an assignment while playing with his hair. His head was hurting all day, and he was sweating out a fever from a bug that was going around.

“Eren?” he asked, his voice a bit weak from a sore throat.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not doing a very good job at helping you, am I?”

I rested my book on my chest and peered down at him. “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head the slightest bit and closed his eyes. “You still feel the need to go out and hurt yourself.”

I knew what he was talking about. I knew exactly what he was talking about. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not stupid. You self-medicate with sex. I’ve been trying to keep you from going out with strangers.” His cheeks flushed pink.

After he said that, everything made sense. The shitty comments, the jealous attitude, his willingness to let me do with him what I wanted night after night. “Why?”

He gave a small shrug. “I said I’d help you, didn’t I? Besides, if you end up getting herpes, I’m not taking care of you.”

I could only blink at him. People have told me before that they were going to help me, but they never did. It was like teasing a dog with a treat and getting mad when it bit you. It was always  _ my _ fault that  _ they _ couldn’t keep their word, and here was somebody who was willing to let me basically abuse him just so I wouldn’t get an STD.

I felt horrible. Horrible enough that I wanted to stop using him.

I sat up quickly enough that his head fell off my stomach. I paid no heed to his whine of pain and grumble of annoyance and kissed him.

I’d never been one for words. They always lied, always deceived, and I didn’t know how to use them without hurting somebody. But actions? I knew how to use them, and I conveyed all my gratitude, relief, and pain into the ones I was using with Jean. 

Luckily, he understood, and I didn’t have to spell it out for him. 

It really wasn’t easy to stop, but I’d always been a stubborn asshole, and when I knew what I wanted, I wasn’t going to stop until I had it, and I wanted to stop this other addiction. 

Don’t get me wrong, Jean and I still fooled around when either of us’d had a particularly stressful day, but it was different. I wasn’t doing it to hide anything about me, and he wasn’t doing it because he felt an obligation to do it. 

I started actually undressing when we were together. He saw my scars, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t call them beautiful or some shit like that because they weren’t. They were horrible and a reminder of all the things I hated--all the things I couldn’t go back and change. 

However, he didn’t cringe and keep his eyes pointedly off of them either. He let himself look for a few minutes before he kissed me again as if they didn’t matter in the sense of perception. He didn’t treat me differently after he knew about them. He didn’t ask why I did it. He just accepted it like I accepted the long scars on his back, and I wished I’d found somebody like him earlier.


	3. Ymir

For as long as I could remember, my fingers have always had calluses. The first was from the way I would hold my pencil. After that first came a plethora of other ones. Calluses from using the shovel in my grandpa’s garden before he got cancer and died. One from snapping a lot--a nervous tic I’d developed after my father was sent to prison. I had ones on my feet from always walking around barefoot, and I even got ones on my fingers and palms from using the equipment at the gym. 

All those formed and left. The only ones that didn’t were the ones on my fingertips from playing guitar. 

I was only eight when my father got caught for sexually abusing and raping my friends whenever they came over the spend the night. 

They’d always been skittish around him--so much that they never liked coming over--but I never knew why. He was the best father a girl could have. He told me bedtime stories when I couldn’t sleep, he chased away the monsters, he taught me how to fly a kite--among other things--and he always kissed my boo-boos and made them better. 

It would be easy to deny everything and say it never happened, but the way we found out made it impossible. One of my older friends, a girl that had offered to babysit me, came up pregnant. 

By my father.

Of course, I didn’t quite understand at the time why I was taken away from him and given to another strange family. It didn’t make sense. Why could I see my daddy anymore? Who were these people? Why were they asking me weird questions about him? No, he’s never hurt me before--quit asking!

It had been six months with my first family before I got sent to another. Then another. And another. The longest time I ever stayed in a home was two years.

I was sixteen when I decided I’d had enough, and I ran away. I took some of my clothes with me, a blanket, feminine hygiene products, my foster mom’s acoustic guitar out of spite, and stole all the money my foster father got from his last couple drug deals. I left in the middle of the night and went across the state and eventually crossed the border into another one. I didn't know where I was going, but I just wanted to get away.

It wasn't long before I got annoyed with the stupidly awkward instrument I was toting around. I tried to sell it a few times, but nobody wanted it. Eventually, I pulled it out and plucked it when I got bored. I was then hit with the idea to teach myself to play and earn money on the streets.

The first couple weeks were hard. I knew next to nothing, and the library was my best friend. Apparently, each string had to be tuned, and mine was definitely not. I learned all about the frets and strings, notes and chords. It was way more than I'd thought at first, but I reminded myself that I wasn't a pussy and kept on it. My playing improved greatly, and I even tried out singing to some catchy pop songs I heard in diners and stores. I quickly learned that I always made more money when I sang. 

I never stayed in a town for very long. I preferred moving around so as not to somehow miraculously be recognized.

It was a particularly cloudy morning when I met Jean. He had been watching me for several days, and I was considering moving soon. Guys that looked like asshats while watching women tend to mean bad things, and I didn't wanna end up like my childhood friend. 

I was about to pack up for the day due to an incoming thunderstorm when he approached me and threw a twenty in my guitar case. 

“Thanks,” I mumbled, keeping defiant eye contact with him. I'd never been one to blend into the background.

“You hungry?”

“Uh.” I scratched my head. “Depends. Is this in a public place or somewhere I'll get easily jumped?”

He rolled his eyes. “We'll go to a damn McDonald's.”

I got up and grinned. “Sounds like a date.” I started packing up my guitar.

He scoffed. “I've seen the way you look at guys and girls. You wouldn't date me, and I wouldn't date you.”

I straightened. Okay, so maybe I was a little bit lesbian. It wasn't that big of a deal that even the thought of touching another girl got me wet, and oh my god I really should have never started with porn. Not even once.

“I don't date privileged white boys like you.”

He barked a laugh. “No, just privileged white girls, right?”

I put my hands on my hips. “You're a real asshole.”

He smirked. “Watch it. I'm paying for lunch.”

I glared. “I don't need your charity, dickwad. I do just fine on my own.”

“Right. Just fine living on the streets playing a poorly tuned guitar for a living.” My fingers curled into fists. I'm gonna punch this bitch. “But I could give you a place to stay if you wanted.”

“Why should I trust you? For all I know, you could murder me in my sleep and feed me to a tiger in your attic.”

“First off, I don't have an attic. I don't have a tiger either, and I can assure you if I wanted to go to jail, I would set fire to a church on a Sunday morning.”

Okay, wow. Not what I was expecting. At all. “You sound more psychotic than I thought.”

He laughed. “You have no idea, Butch.”

I made a face. “I have a name, you know. I'll tell you if you ask nicely.”

He flipped me off and started walking away. “Come on before it starts pouring.”

I grumbled and followed him to the nearest KFC--he lied about McDonald's--and got some obnoxiously huge order. He didn't say anything to me about it. He just calmly ordered his own food and sat down when it came up. I reluctantly sat down across from him and started eating. It was then that I realized I'd been hungrier than I thought. 

“So what's your name?” he asked once I slowed down.

“Ymir,” I replied

“Alright, Ymir. I've got room at home for you if you don't mind my roommate. He can be a bit of an asshole at times.”

“Says the king of assholes,” I muttered.

He pointedly ignored me. “You can leave whenever, but if you stay for more than a few months, I'm asking that you chip in to pay the rent.”

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. There was no damn way I was staying for more than a week. “Yeah, okay.”

He leaned back and waited for me to get finished before we left and went to his apartment. It was a somewhat decent one on the edge of town by the university. It was on the second of three stories, and we had to go up a flight of stairs and down the hall.

He took a deep breath before opening the door and telling, “Hey, Eren? I've got another stray.”

I was about to say something to him along the lines of where he could shove his comments when another voice came from one of the doors down the short hall. It sounded like they were coming out to greet--or yell at--this asshole.

“Dammit, Jean. I thought I told you no more--what the fuck?” The guy--Eren--appeared at the end of the hall and was holding and petting an extremely fluffy, white cat with eyes as green as his. He looked between me and Jean before settling on Jean. “What the fuck?” he repeated.

“She's been on Avenue L for almost a week, and I felt bad. She looked cold.”

“I'm standing right here,” I said.

Eren set the cat down and rubbed his face. “A cat or dog is one thing. This is a  _ person. _ ”

Jean stepped toward Eren. “I know, I know. Just hear me out. It's only until she can get on her feet.”

I squinted. “I never said that.”

He gave me an extremely exasperated look. “Do you want to sleep outside again?”

“I have been for years. I don't care.”

He gestured to me but looked at Eren again. “See?”

Eren glanced at me then back at Jean again. “Alright, fine, but only for a few nights.”

Jean seemed to loosen up a bit as he smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the shorter one grumbled. Even so, he accepted the small gesture of affection in the form of fingers brushing together.

I cleared my throat. “Gee, I hate to break up your little love fest, but where can I crash?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jean said as he backed away. “Follow me.”

I did as he was told. He gestured to a door. “There's the bathroom if you wanna shower first.” He then pointed to another door. “Bed’s in there. Make yourself at home.” He pointed out yet another door. “This one’s the other room for us, the front room is the living room and kitchen. You can have whatever you’d like, just don’t leave dishes in the room. I’m still trying to break Eren of that habit.”

“You two are fucking.”

He looked at me funny. “What the hell does that have to do with a house tour?”

“I'm right, aren't I?” I smirked. “Now I know why you won't rape me. You like dicks.” Unless I was totally wrong, and he would rape me just to try and prove his not-gayness.  _ Shit, Ymir. Maybe you should start thinking before you speak. _

“Or it's because I like being nice every once in awhile.”

“Whatever.”

He crossed his arms and huffed. “I can still kick you out.”

“Yeah, right.” I snorted and pushed past him, shutting the door behind me. Luckily, he didn't follow me in. There was a bed in the middle of the white-walled room. The floors were a dark stained wood, and the bedspread was--surprisingly--bright yellow. It lightened the room up substantially since there was only one moderately big window on the one wall.

“I can!” His voice was muffled.

“No, you won't. I prefer sleeping in the nude, and you don't like vaginas.”

“I never fucking said that!” He sounded like he was getting extremely frustrated, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Gaaayyyyyy.” I took my shirt off and folded it up before setting it on the white dresser.

“Asshole.”

“Dick.”

“Soggy lampshade.”

“Absolute fucking walnut.”

I heard Eren's faint voice say, “Jean, quit being a shithead, and let her sleep.”

He grumbled but eventually left. I stripped down to only my underwear and got in the bed. The sheets smelled like, well, guy and detergent. I wondered how many times they'd had sex in this same bed, and then I immediately cringed. Definitely not what I wanted to be thinking about. What really wanted to think about was some hot chick. I realized I hadn't gotten off in months. That was actually really sad. I hadn't had privacy for long enough. 

Without hesitation, my hand went to my chest. I was already half hard just thinking about it. I took my time to give both breasts the attention they wanted and, frankly, deserved. Every brush of my fingers over my nipples went straight between my legs. I could feel the skin on my face heating up as I pushed my underwear down to my ankles.

I was already wet due to the earlier stimulation, and I wasted no time in rubbing and circling my fingers around. Nineteen years was more than enough time to figure out exactly what felt good. I used my one hand to rub and prod while I slipped one, then two fingers inside, and oh god it felt amazing. I almost forgot just how it felt, and I needed it, needed the release.

I came sooner than normal, squeezing around my fingers and panting lightly. My heart was beating quickly, and my head was filled with that buzz. I didn't even realize I was biting my lip until I let go to swallow. “Jesus,” I whispered to the still air.

I'd just pulled my underwear back up when there was a tentative knock at the door. “Uh, Ymir?” Jean said.

“Yeah?” Dammit, my voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “Yeah?” I repeated.

“We can hear you.”

I felt my face flush. “Then don't fucking listen, jerkoff.”

I heard faint laughter. “Way to take, ‘Make yourself at home,’ extremely literally.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go to sleep.”

“Fine.” I turned over and closed my eyes. The bed was really comfortable compared to concrete, and I fell asleep quickly.


	4. Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is "The Draw" by Bastille.

It was three in the morning by the time the three of us got done with our performance, and we were exhausted. It was another hour to help tear down the makeshift stage, gather all our stuff, and make the relatively short commute home. So there we were, stumbling into our apartment at four A.M. 

“God fucking dammit,” I cursed under my breath when my bass hit a wall. The bass, I knew, would survive the hit, but we seriously didn’t need to wake the neighbors. We all knew Mrs. Purdue was a little bitch this early with her stupid, green face mask on and pink hair curlers in. I swear she was the Kraken. 

I set the bass and Ymir’s baby--guitar--down by the dining room table before rushing back to help with the last of the drumset. We put all the containers by the bass and stacked our neatly put away portable sound system--that thing cost a small fortune--beside that.

“That’s everything,” Ymir said as she opened a bottle of water and drained over half of it. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up until two.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” We both knew she’d be up as soon as she smelled breakfast. 

She flipped us off and made her way to her room. The door clicked shut and the sound of her footsteps indicated her getting ready for bed. 

I yawned and scrubbed my hair. It really was a long night. Certainly wasn’t the longest, but it  came close. “Night, angry elf,” I mumbled, shuffling down the hallway to my own room. 

I heard him laugh a little behind me. “Night, horseface.” 

The nicknames were definitely great stories. Eren somehow had never seen  _ Elf _ , so I felt it was my duty to show it to him, and once we got to the meeting at the end, Ymir and I had looked at each other then at Eren. “He’s the angry elf,” I decided. She nodded.

“Oh, fuck. Come on, guys…,” Eren groaned. 

The name stuck. As for mine, I procrastinated on getting a Halloween costume several years back, and I ran to Walmart at the last minute before a some lame party. All they had left was a horsehead, so I got it out of desperation. Even though I didn’t drink at the party--hard as fuck, by the way--it was fun watching the drunks start tripping balls at the dude with a horse for a head. 

I waved a little and went into my room. It was nothing much, especially not yet. We hadn’t been here long enough for us to really decorate, so my walls were some neutral, tan color. I hung up navy blue curtains in my window to match my lemon yellow bedspread. My clothes were hung up in my closet--even the pants--because I didn’t like the crease lines they got after being in a dresser too long.

I let the door close behind me before going to put on the pajama pants I’d left on a chair in the corner of my room. I tossed my shirt and pants with fresh beer on them in my hamper. Laundry definitely had to be done tomorrow unless I wanted my room to smell like a small bar, and God knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I wanted a relapse. 

Honestly? I wasn’t sure how I was able to get through tonight. We were performing in the back of a bigger-than-what-we-normally-play-at bar. Maybe it was because I was able to throw my whole self into setting the place up. Maybe it was the fact that I was playing and keeping myself distracted. Maybe having my own personal support group by my side made it all bearable. I knew they wouldn’t have let me have anything to drink--they knew better. 

I realized I was smiling to myself. Those two were my real family, not the shitheads I thought I could trust my whole entire lives. 

My family that I sometimes still had sex with. At least one of them. Surprisingly, I’d never seen Ymir bring anybody home. Wait, scratch that. She’s gone to other people’s places, but never for a whole night. I don’t ever ask whose place though since she still has privacy issues, what with being on the street with none for years. For all I know, she could be a drug lord.

With my bed clothes now on, I flicked my light off and climbed into bed. When the front door opened and shut, I didn’t think twice about it. Eren liked to go for walks sometimes after our concerts.  _ I hope he gets sleep, _ I remembered thinking as I fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is extra short, but only because I just now figured out what my inciting incident is going to be, and Jean has to be asleep for it.


	5. Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is "Fear" by the X Ambassadors. I'm still on vacation, so chapters will be slow if at all. Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I really do appreciate it! ^w^

I pulled my coat around me tighter when a particularly strong gust of wind tried to bodyslam me into a wall. It was cold and getting colder as the night progressed. Thanksgiving was coming upon us fast, and a sudden ache rose in me--a longing for my family. With a shake of my head, I pushed those feelings back. Not tonight.

  
Thanksgiving. Would we get a turkey this year? Last year, we pooled our money and managed to get a decent one. This year had been even better than last year now that people were starting to know who we were. It had been a total of 23 more gigs this year. I may or may not have been counting.

  
However, we were still poor, college students. I managed to get a full ride, and Jean got half of his, but Ymir had to go through high school classes when she came to live with us, and she was now currently taking college classes online for her last year.

  
My thoughts were interrupted by a group of drunken teenagers stumbling out of the bar we’d performed in earlier tonight. A smile ghosted over my lips when I realized they were singing our songs. Actually, singing was way too nice of a word for it. It was more like they were slurring the words in an off-key moan into the wind, but hey, any publicity was good publicity.

  
I watched as one of the group members looked in my direction. They were still laughing, but once they saw me, they stopped, and their jaw went slack. The rest of the group was still oblivious, however, and they didn’t notice when the one sober one broke away from them to stand at the curb and look at me like I was some sort of science experiment.

  
“Y-you’re Eren,” they said.

  
I shoved my hands in my coat pockets. I loved my fans. I really did, but I never knew what to expect. I had one lady literally throw herself at me so hard that we both got knocked into a table while she was screaming about how she wanted to have my babies.

  
“Yeah, I replied warily.

  
“You’re the drummer for Idiot Genius.” I still wasn’t sure about any details on their appearance. The nearest streetlight was out.

  
“Wow, thanks. I didn’t know that. Please, do tell me more about myself.”

  
Their cheeks flushed, but they held eye contact with me. “You’re _the_ Eren Jaeger. The one that topped the charts at the university, and got the highest scores in the state on your MCAT.”

  
Nobody has ever connected me to the me in college. “Who are you?”

  
Their chin tilted up triumphantly. “I’m Armin.” They stuck their hand out, and I shook it. Their hand was warm and smaller than mine, and I realized they were kind of buzzed too if the alcohol on their breath was anything to go by.

  
“Are you gonna say you’re my biggest fan or something? Did we stop you from cutting? I don’t see any eyeliner on you.” I kept my tone light. Hopefully, they wouldn’t take me too seriously. I never did, anyway.

  
“Actually… you kept me from cutting in the first place.”

  
_Fuck_. I cleared my throat. “Shit, man. Sorry.”

  
They laughed. “No big deal.” Small shrug. “I heard your music in high school once I applied and knew I was going to go to school at the university the next town over. You guys are like minor celebrities. I’ve loved your music ever since.” They rubbed the inside of their wrist under the somewhat flimsy looking sweater they were wearing.

  
I became conscious again about the temperature, and I slipped my coat off before offering it to them. My mama _did_ teach me manners, after all. Their eyes widened as they looked between me and the coat like it was the holy grail. “A-are you sure?”

  
I gave a half shrug. “Just give it back to me tomorrow. We’re performing across the street.” I gestured as if they didn’t know what it meant to be across the street.

  
They gingerly reached out and took it from me like they thought I would snatch it away at the last minute. The relief was evident once it was around their shoulders. I felt good about being able to help even if I was going to be fucking freezing the rest of the night. “Hey, uh… you might want to catch up to your group.”

  
They whirled around in the direction the people wandered off in. Their “singing” was no longer audible. “Oh no…”

  
I looked them up and down. They were smaller than me, and they sounded young, but it was still hard to tell. “Let me guess: You don’t know your way around.”

  
With a bit lip, they looked at me. “No, I don’t. We just came into town to see you guys, and they probably took the car.”

  
_Fuck me._ I didn’t own a car, and if Jean knew I took his out in the middle of the night, he’d murder me. Quite literally. Oh god. I was about to pull a Jean. _Don’t do it, Jaeger. Be strong. Don’t do it…_

  
“You can stay at my place for tonight.”

  
Fuck. Me.

  
They audibly gasped. “Are you serious? I’m not intruding, am I?”

  
I waved my hand like it was no big deal. It was totally no big deal that I was inviting a random fan to come stay over at the apartment I share with my bandmates. I had a small flash of anti-deja vu. This was how Jean got Ymir to come live with us. Oh Lord. We definitely didn’t have enough room for another whole entire being to live with us, bar a cat or small dog.

  
In seconds, it seemed like they became a little kid. “Oh my god, thank you so much. I promise I’ll call and have the get me in the morning. I’ll leave when you say you want me gone, and I don’t snore."

  
You might not, but Ymir sure does. “It’s not a problem. We can talk about it more in the morning.” I turned around and headed back the way I came, but this time, I had a bouncing ball of eagerness trailing behind me.

  
* * *

  
They looked around the apartment in awe. “Wow.”

  
I flicked a light on. When the glow hit their face, it became clear “they” was actually a “he”. “Yeah, it isn’t much, but it’s cozy.” _Cozy, Eren? Really?_ I mentally cringed.

  
His smile widened. “It’s really nice.”

  
I looked at him and leaned against the dining room table. Where was I going to put him? I could make him sleep on the couch, but if Jean came out in the middle of the night, it would scare the shit out of him, and I’d be in huge trouble. If I woke him up to ask if Armin could stay, I’d get the evil eye, and honestly? He still scares me at times. Armin could always sleep on the floor, but if he did that, he’d have to be in my room, and I’d feel bad since my bed is big enough for two.

  
“Thanks.” I snagged a bunch of blankets from a basket by the couch. Ymir was always hot, so we kept the thermostat turned down, but Jean was always freezing, so the blankets were a necessity. “You can, uh, sleep in my room.”

  
“O-oh.” I turned around to look at him, and his face was flushed.

  
“Is… that okay?”

  
“Yeah.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I-I mean, um, yeah, that’s fine.”

  
I nodded slowly and led him to my room. It wasn’t all black and white and gray like Ymir’s, and it certainly wasn’t as _vivid_ as Jean’s--secretly, I liked his somewhat quirky sense of interior design--but it was my room, and I liked it.

  
My comforter was olive green with brown pillows and tan sheets. I had a dresser against the wall next to my bed because it cost me enough that I didn’t have enough money to get a nightstand. By the time I did have the cash to get a nightstand, I’d grown used to just putting all my crap on top of the dresser. When I got it—the dresser—it had the ugliest, white, peeling paint job on it, so I scraped all the paint off and gave it a pecan stain. As a sort of housewarming gift for myself, I got a headboard of the same color around the square, four inch border, and the inside was some dark brown, quilted leather with those button looking things where two lines intersect.

  
I watched Armin take it all in, and I set the blankets down on the floor. “You can have the bed if you want, and I’ll take the floor.”

  
He bit his lip. “No, I’ll take the floor. It’s totally fine. I used to camp out on my grandparents’ floor when I was younger.”

  
“Okay. Do you need something to sleep in?”

  
He shook his head, blond hair brushing over his shoulders. “No, I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

  
We both stood there awkwardly for another moment before I started laying the blankets out for him, and he started handing them to me to get it done faster. I sat on the bed once we were done, and I waited for him to get settled down with a pillow before turning the light off and getting into my own bed.

  
Since I was little, I’ve always slept with some form of sound of whether it be a fan, a TV, or the radio. Just something to fill the silence that echoes and shouts. Tonight, however, I forgot to turn it on, and I didn’t know if he was comfortable with something being on or not. Because of this, I stayed awake at least for twenty minutes trying to ignore the sound of silence.

  
Guilt was also gnawing at me. I felt bad that I’d still made him sleep on the floor. I’m not sure if it was the unsettling quiet or the fact that I was sleep deprived that prompted me to say, “Do you want to sleep up here.”

  
There was no answer, and I assumed he was asleep, but then I heard movement, and the bed dipped. I lifted the edge of my blanket up, and he crawled in beside me.

  
What the hell are you doing, Jaeger? I scolded myself. This would be awkward enough as it was the next time I saw him, and I was already making it weirder.

  
We both shuffled around and tried to stay on opposite sides of the bed, but somehow we ended up face to face and touching each other. I could see the whites of his eyes in the dark, and internally, I was kind of freaking out because it had been a really long time since I had been this close to anybody but Jean. What if I started abusing myself again? What if--?

  
My thoughts were cut off by the feather-light feel of Armin’s lips touching mine. It was totally unexpected, and my mind totally went blank, but my body knew what to do. My hand came up and touched the side of his neck, and I could tell he was sensitive there by the way he bared it to me and bit his lip.

  
I removed my hand and pressed my lips where my palm had been. I kissed him lightly at first, testing his limits, and before I knew it, I was trailing my tongue everywhere and biting at the base of his throat, causing him to cry out softly in the silently loud room. The noise only made me want more, and I moved closer until I had him pinned against the bed, and I was straddling him.

  
* * *

  
I woke up the next morning with a body next to me. Not the dead kind, but the alive and naked kind. The messed up, sex hair flopped over his face and getting puffed out by his breath kind. The hickies dusting his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs kind. The peacefully sleeping, angelic, there's-no-way-I-saw-his-orgasm-face kind.

  
I carefully sat up so as not to disturb him. I couldn't believe I'd done that. I'd been doing so well. What if I slipped up again and started bringing somebody home every night? It would hurt Jean. Ymir too. I didn't want to hurt either of them. They were my family.

  
I felt movement and turned my head to see Armin snuggle closer to me. His feet rubbed against my leg, and my leg tingled at the touch. It really had been a long time since I'd gotten any action other than my right hand. I wondered if I was still as good. Thinking back to several hours ago, I was either really good or he was extremely noisy. My ego liked to believe it was the former.

  
“Armin.”

  
All I got as a response was a pathetic little whine and, “No, Mom. I don't have class today.”

  
“I hope you don't have sex with your mother.”

  
There was a small pause. “I'm not at home. Or in my dorm.”

  
“Nope.”

  
“I got laid last night.”

  
I snorted. “You're welcome.”

  
“By Eren Jaeger.”

  
“Yep.” I popped the p.

  
He sat up slowly and his eyes could've been their own moons with how wide they were. “O-oh my god. I'm so sorry. I don't normally… do stuff like that.”

  
I raised an eyebrow. “Stuff like that?” He flushed. “Are you apologizing for amazing sex?”

  
“I-I-I yes?” He hid his face in his hands. “I don't really do casual sex.”

  
I shrugged lightly. “Then…,” _Don't do it. Don't fucking do it,_ “maybe we can go get coffee or something next week.” Internally, I bashed my head against the headboard behind me several thousand times. This kid seemed too innocent, and I didn't want to be the one to take that away from him. Well, more than I already have. Not to mention the fact that he also seemed like he had a good path paved for him. Getting tangled up with me would only hinder him.

  
He blinked several times at me. “You're serious? You aren't just screwing with me?”

  
I grinned and gestured between us. “I already have.”

  
He blushed more and scrambled to look for his clothes. “It really would be nice if we could—” he scooped up his underwear, “—but i-if you're gonna stand me up, I think I'll—” next came the shirt, “—pass.”

  
I leaned back against the headboard and watched as he dressed. I had to hand it to him—he had a nice ass. “I was being serious about the coffee.”

  
His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and after he buttoned his shirt together the wrong way for the third time, I leaned forward and did it myself. He seemed to freeze while I did. The collar didn't hide two of the dark marks on his neck—one just below his jaw by his ear and the other further down where I literally couldn't help but _bite_ him like a damn vampire.

  
His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Really?”

  
I leaned back again. “Yeah. Ymir’s always telling me I need to make more friends. Even though she's not my damn mom.” The last part I muttered more to myself.

  
He bit his lip around a big, bright smile. “This is literally a dream come true.”

  
I waved a hand. “I'm just an average guy with average orgasms.” He blushed when I winked suggestively. He blushed easily. Then my stomach just had to start dying. “And an over-sized stomach. Are you hungry?”

  
“A little,” he admitted. “But I really should be getting back to the campus.”

  
I got out of bed and dug my phone out of my jeans. “Here. You can call whoever you need to.”

  
I didn't miss the way his eyes looked me over from head to toe before his gaze snapped up to my outstretched hand sheepishly. Oh Lord was he blushing hard.

  
When he took my phone, he looked at my forearm and bit his lip, the blush now leaving along with most of his natural color. My breath caught in my throat. My scars. Oh God, he could see all of them. I realized then I was totally naked—exposed. I pulled my arm back and pressed the fucked up half to my side and got dressed. My skin itched, but I didn't dare touch it even after I was safely covered.

  
Armin talked quietly on the phone for about five or ten minutes, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. He didn't mention my name, thankfully, or the names of either of my apartment mates. He handed my phone back to me with a quiet thanks, but I still couldn't look him in the eye. I was comfortable with my body around my family because they knew what it was like to have emotional baggage and issues in general. Even though I'd slept with this kid, I still didn't know anything about him—his own issues, his likes and dislikes, his personality, etc.

  
He cleared his throat. “They'll be here soon,” he said to fill the silence.

  
I nodded. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I crossed my arms over my chest to hide my fidgeting. “Come on,” I mumbled as I headed out to the hallway. I didn't turn to see if he followed me, but if the soft padding noises were anything to go by, he was close behind.

  
I covered my mouth as I yawned and opened the fridge. We'd gone grocery shopping just the other day—never a dull trip with Ymir—so I pulled out a carton of orange juice and twisted the lid and safety seal off. “Want some?”

  
“I-I um…”

  
I took a glass down for him anyway. “You can sit or whatever. The furniture isn't gonna bite your ass off.”

  
We made eye contact for the first time in fifteen minutes, and his cheeks turned pink for the billionth time this morning, no doubt imagining other things on his ass. Mainly, my hands. I grinned slowly and winked, my earlier discomfort pushed aside for now. The way he stuttered like a goofus and plopped his butt down on a stool at the bar was endearing. Even if he did wince from the, ahem, _affection_ from the night before.

  
I slid a glass across the counter to him with two fingers and leaned against the bar across from the small blonde. A quick glance at the microwave clock let me know it was only six in the morning. Because God forbid I actually get to sleep in. Why the fuck was I even bothering with orange juice when I could be drinking coffee?

  
We drank in a somewhat companionable silence. A lovers’ silence? Good God, I didn't even know if we were friends. I actually wanted to be his friend. There was only one time when I actually stayed in touch with one of my little escapades, and I was now living with the guy. What was the worst that could happen with Armin?

  
There was a click down the hall, and my mind just shut off completely. I was a goner. We didn't have any rules in the house, but I couldn't be sure how either of my roommates would react to me bringing anybody home without them knowing.

  
Thankfully—and ironically, I must add, for several reasons—it was Ymir who came out. Armin stiffened, and I eyed him over the counter, but she didn't cast a single glance at either of us. She got a glass and filled it partway with orange juice before pulling a tiny bottle of vodka out of her pajama pants pocket and poured it in then swirled it together.

  
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Ymir.”

  
“Fuck off, Jaeger. Jean doesn't know I have it, and if you wanna keep it that way, I gotta drink it now.”

  
I crossed my arms. “You don't have to drink it at all. That shit’s bad for you.”

  
She rolled her eyes. “I'll keep that in mind, Mom. And it's not like I'm going anywhere. Plus, I can't get smashed on one tiny bottle. It's just to keep me out until noon.”

  
I pursed my lips. “Only this one today? No more?”

  
“No more. I promise. I only have two more, and I'm saving them.”

  
“For what?”

  
“For when I get laid.” She grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

  
I rolled my eyes. “How charming.”

  
She shrugged like What can I say? “Speaking of, you two are loud as fuck. I hope you didn't wake that bitch up.”

  
_Ah, yes._ Mrs. Purdue, our horrifying neighbor with the chihuahua whose eyes were always about to pop out of its head. The little shit gave “ankle biter” a new meaning. “God, I hope not.”

  
Ymir turned to Armin and looked him up and down. The poor kid looked a bit lost and desperate. Finally, she stuck her hand out. “Ymir.”

  
He reached out timidly and shook it. “Armin.”

  
“Will I be seeing you around here now?”

  
“I…” He looked to me. I shrugged and nodded. “I guess so.”

  
“Great.” She started cracking all her knuckles several times and looked at him in a look of intimidation I've seen many times. “Here's the standard ‘hurt him and you'll be waking up in an alley all alone in some ghetto’ warning.”

  
“Ymir…,” I began.

  
She ignored me. “Got it?”

  
He paled considerably and swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I-I got it.”

  
She glared for several more moments before downing her whole drink. “Good. I'm going back to bed. If you wake me up, be prepared to die.”

  
I snickered. “Yeah, yeah.”

  
As she left, she smacked Armin’s shoulder in a friendly sort of gesture. He still looked terrified, and I couldn't help but laugh. “She won't hurt you if you don't give her a reason to.”

  
He nodded. “I'm definitely not going to give her a reason.”

  
I smiled a bit more.

  
Several minutes later, there was the beep of a car horn outside. I saw Armin to the front door. He waved at me as the car drove off, and I couldn't help but smile. He really was a cutie.

  
I got upstairs and plugged in my phone after a nice, long shower. It lit up with a text from none other than Armin. He must've put his number in my phone when he used it and checked what my number was. I guess this meant he got home okay.

  
**Armin: Hey (:**

  
I smiled and typed a text back.


	6. Ymir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I can't believe I got this chapter up so quickly. I can't guarantee I'll have the next up so fast though. The last part was literally something I just came up with, so we'll see how it goes. Happy 4th of July to those who celebrate it!

True to my word, I slept until one in the afternoon. I was surprised since my brain always woke me up by ten every single day without fail. I guess the early morning booze in the orange juice worked somehow. Score.

I screwed around in my room for a few more minutes before I smelled food. _Bacon._ Oh sweet Jesus. Somebody was making bacon! I was wet already.

I skidded down the hallway on socked feet. “Somebody fuck me up.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. He was standing over the stove, tending to the very thing causing all my internal fluids to accumulate. There was a towel thrown over his towel, and his hair was sticking up all over the place from where he ran his hands through it occasionally. He rolled his eyes. “Real lady like, Ymir.”

“You should know by now I'm no lady. That's why I'm so insistent about finding a lady. Gotta have _somebody_ to even me out. Lord knows _you_ two pussies aren't cutting it.”

He shook his head and started putting some strips that were already done on a plate with a few paper towels laid over it. “I give her food and shelter and this is how she repays me.”

I grinned and sat down on the bar stool. “Don't worry. You'll make a good housewife to somebody someday, Jeanbo.”

He groaned. “Shut up. I told you that one time. And I already _am_ a housewife for you two hooligans.”

Jeanbo was the nickname his mom called him. I liked to call him that because I knew it embarrassed him, and he secretly liked it. He'd never admit to that though. I think it reminded him of being at home.

“Yumi, quit picking on Jean,” Eren chided as he poked me in the side. “Wait until the food is already cooked. _Then_ you can be a jerk.”

“Gee thanks, guys.” Jean turned the stove off and wiped his hands on the towel. “I really feel the love.”

I snickered and grabbed for a piece of bacon. The regret was instantaneous when my fingerprints got seared off. “Aw, mother shit fuck!”

The blond shit grinned. “Careful. They're hot.” Then he took one and ate it without even batting an eye.

“What…? How did you do that?”

He wiggled his fingers. “Secret.”

“Fucker.”

Both boys laughed. Eren sat down next to me, and Jean started on some fried eggs. This was what most mornings were like. Though I guessed it was lunchtime now. The three of us were so similar that we either would hate each other passionately or love each other fiercely. Thankfully, it was the latter even though we tended to get in spats at times. It was also a good thing Jean majored in psychology. It helped having our own personal counselor.

“Sleep okay, Ymir?” Eren asked.

“Yeah, why?” I squinted suspiciously. “What you do?” At least I knew he wouldn't rat me out about the liquor.

“I thought you said you were gonna sleep until the afternoon,” Jean chimed in. He scooped an egg onto a plate.”It’s only eleven.”

I blinked at him then turned to glare at Eren. Eren was attempting to stifle a laugh. “Eren fucking Jaeger. I am going to beat your ass into next week.”

At that, he actually laughed out loud. “You can’t even walk up ten stairs without being winded!”

“So? I’m lazy and unfit, but at least _I_ can get a good lay every once in awhile.” Just last week, in fact. It was quite kinky. She was into the whole BDSM thing. “Chicks totally dig me.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I could get laid any time I wanted to. I’m into literally _anybody_ , remember?” Ah, yes. What did they call that again? Pansexuality, I think. I was well aware of his rather difficult past, but I doubted he’d ever fall the wagon again on those things. I’d skin him with a potato peeler and throw him in a bathtub of salt, for starters, and he knew it. Plus, I knew he didn't want to be like that again. “And I’m hotter than you anyway.”

“Nah. We’re about even on the hotness scale. Except I’m, like, point four higher than you.” Which was true. I was a bit on the tall side for being a girl, but I had freckles most girls found endearing. Somehow, my eyes were a bit on the thin side, and they were brown--my dad always said that’s how he knew I was full of shit. My personality could be a bite in the ass for most, so it didn’t even matter how good looking I was half the time. However, I was still convinced I was damn hot.

Eren was quite a bit different from me. He was shorter than me, first off. His eyes were normal sized, but they were the most intriguing green color. He’d told me before his mother was from Guatemala, and he inherited her hair and skin color. I also knew he learned Spanish in an attempt to charm poor, unsuspecting prey--I mean people.

“Whatever you say.” He grinned.

Jean slid a plate of fried eggs to the middle. Some of the eggs had broken yolks just how I liked them. “I cooked, so you guys do dishes.”

“Aw, come on,” I groaned. “That’s not fair. I just found out I slept two hours less than I thought, and I didn’t ask you to make me breakfast.”

Eren jabbed his fork in Jean’s direction. “She has a point.”

“Don’t be a bunch of babies.” Jean whipped the towel off his shoulder and started winding it up absently. He ate another piece of bacon and kept messing with the hand towel. “I’m getting in the shower.”

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Eren asked.

Jean shrugged and rounded the counter. “I had bacon.”

“Yeah, like two pieces.”

“Eren, it’s fine. I’m not hungry.” He ruffled Eren’s hair as he went by, and a moment later I felt--and heard--him snap the towel against my lower back.

“Ow, mother _fucker_!” I turned in my seat to smack him, but he was already down the hall, laughing at me. I flipped him off and turned back around in my seat. “Fucking pig headed prick.”

Eren snorted, but he was still looking down the hall. He shook his head and stood up. “You two are idiots. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yeah.”

He opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk. I waited for him to pour some in my glass. “Thanks.”

“Yep.” He glanced towards the hallway again.

“You’re worried about him.”

His lips twisted to the side, and he visibly started chewing on his lower one, but he didn’t deny it. “He isn’t eating like he should.”

I could hear Jean singing along to the little radio we kept in the bathroom. His voice could get surprisingly deep if he was warmed up properly, and it was smooth. He had good tone--he used his abdomen, so he never sounded airy or like he had a thin sound.

“There isn’t anything we can do. He’s an adult.”

Eren sighed. I knew how he felt. Jean had been losing weight over the past several months, but we didn’t know what to do to help. We weren’t sure if he was in denial about the weight loss or if he just didn’t care, but he just kept brushing us off when we voiced our concerns.

“I know, Ymir, but I just…” He braced his hands on the countertop across from me, his arms flexing as he gripped it. The frustration and pain were obvious. Even if those two idiots didn’t know it themselves, I could tell they loved each other. That’s why I was surprised when I saw the little blond in our kitchen this morning with those hickies on his neck.

I put my hand over his briefly. “It’ll be okay. If it gets any worse, we can call a counselor or something.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “A counselor for a counselor?”

I nodded. “One that specializes in eating disorders.”

There was a pause before he nodded too. “Okay.”

I patted his hand and pulled back. “Do you plan on telling him you had somebody over last night?”

He looked up at me. “Not now. I don’t know if it’ll be anything serious, and introducing Armin to either of you is like taking him home to my parents.”

I raised an eyebrow. “One of which you used to have sex with on a regular basis.”

“ _Used_ to. And in all the years I’ve known him, we haven’t actually… done anything serious. We’ve never gone on a date or held hands. It’s more like a friends with benefits thing.”

“In all the years _I’ve_ known you guys, neither of you have gone out on a date with each other or anybody else.”

He made a face. “I went out that one time with Janet what’s-her-name.”

“Wasn’t she your cousin here to tell you your shitty uncle died?”

“Maybe.”

I leaned forward and braced my arms on the counter. “Look, all I’m saying is you two go around and around. One of you needs to bite the bullet and admit your feelings, go out with somebody else, or both.”

He put his hands in the air. “Alright, alright. I’ll see if Armin will go for breakfast next weekend or something, okay?”

I sat back, satisfied. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

The shower turned off, but Jean was still singing. Eren’s eyes still looked a bit troubled. “Just don’t tell him.”

I stood up and crossed my arms. “Fine.”

He came around the counter and smacked my back in a friendly gesture on the way to his room. I shook my head and pushed my hair back off my face. When Jean came in with just his pajama pants on while toweling off his hair, I called him a lazy bum and ignored the way his bones jutted out.

* * *

It was sometime in the afternoon when I went down and got the mail. I fixed my alarm clock in my room and taught Eren a lesson while Jean videotaped it. The video was now up on Facebook for anybody’s amusement.

“Hey, Ymir.” I glanced up and saw Jeff, one of the neighbors from a lower floor. He had the worst crush on me, but he was so shy that I’ve never said anything to him about me being a raging lesbian.

I gave a small wave back. “Hi. How are you?” I pulled the key out and unlocked the mailbox.

“I-I’m good. Missy wants to see you.” Missy was his French Bulldog puppy. She was extremely cute, and she liked all the treats I gave her.

I smiled good-naturedly and pulled the mail out then shut and locked it up again. “Give her pets and shit for me.”

His smile made me sucking up my bitchiness for two seconds totally worth it. I wasn’t _always_ an asshat. He waved and scurried away.

I waited until I was at our counter before I started searching through the mail. “My junk. Eren’s junk. Eren’s shit. Jean’s fanmail. Our bills.” Each letter got tossed onto the counter one by one. We had so much junk mail. The only advertisements worth keeping were the coupons from Victoria’s Secret since it was Eren’s subscription, and I didn’t mind going in with him. We pretended they were for me. Total lie.

I was down to two letters. I tossed the first one on the counter, but the last one made me pause. It was addressed to me, but it was from a private detective of some sort. I opened it up and scanned it.

_Dear Ymir Gray,_

_I am Mike Zacharias with Zacharias Investigation Firm, and I am contacting you in regards to family member. They wish for their identity to remain anonymous for the time being; however, they wish to meet you. If there is no reply in thirty days, I will attempt to reach you some other way._

_Sincerely,_

_Mike Zacharias._

There was a handwritten signature at bottom along with his contact information. I squinted at it. What relatives would try to reach me? And through a private detective, no less. It couldn’t be any aunts, uncles, cousins. None of them wanted anything to do with me, and my grandparents were long gone. I never knew my mom, and she’d never bothered to contact me before, so I doubted it was her.

I read and reread the message several times. Finally, I folded it up and slipped it back into the envelope. I had thirty days to respond. I could decide what to do tomorrow.

That night, I kept looking at the letter while I was trying to sleep. It seemed bright against the darkness of my room. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I sat up and got the letter and my laptop. I opened my email and started a new draft.

_Dear Zacharias..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! ^w^ Also, the song is "Singing In The Shower" by Becky G because I think I'm funny.


	7. Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I totally didn't need to get a job. This was my job--this was what I lived for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are hopefully getting longer??? *screams out of fear of the unknown*

I was awoken that night with my face getting hit by a pillow. I groaned and put my arms over my head. “What the heeellllllll?” It was, like, the asscrack of dawn.

“Jean.”

“What do you want, Ymir?” I kept my eyes closed. “The rest of the bacon is still in the--”

“Get up. I want to talk to you.”

I groaned again. “Can’t it wait?”

“There’s a private detective looking for me.”

I stayed still for a moment. “There’s a what?”

“Apparently I have a relative looking for me, and they hired a private detective. Some dude named Mike or something.”

Scratching my jaw, I sat up. “Who would be looking for you?”

She rubbed each of her knuckles one set at a time on both hands then started all over again. I knew they’d be pink in a few seconds. “How the hell should I know? Will you just get up?”

“Okay, okay.” I stood and picked up the t-shirt closest to me--Coconut Records was the band printed on the front of it--before slipping it on. “Do you want me to go get Eren too?”

“No. Not right now. I’ll tell him later.” She headed to the living room.

I wondered why she didn’t just tell him right now with me too, but I just shrugged it off. Ymir had reasons for anything she did. 

Neither of us said anything when she settled on the barstool, and I started making hot chocolate. The floor was colder than normal due to the wind buffering against the windows and slipping through the cracks. I needed to get some weather strips or something from Lowe’s. 

Without having to be told, I grabbed the marshmallows from the pantry and slid them across the counter along with the hot chocolate. She reached in the Ziplock bag and covered the whole top of the mug in a fistful. 

“Barbaric,” I muttered.

She smirked. “You have your methods, I have mine.”

I shook my head and gave her a spoon too. “Alright. Tell me.”

“I got a letter in the mail from an investigator called Mike Zacharias, and he said somebody related to me was looking for me but wished to remain anonymous for the time being.”

“If they’re looking for you, you’d think they would want you to know who they are,” I commented.

“That’s what I thought.” Melted marshmallows clung to her spoon as she shoved them all inside the mug. “So I’m thinking it’s somebody I won’t want to see. Like my dad or something. If I don’t answer in thirty days, he’s gonna try to get ahold of me some other way.”

“So… Did you call him or email him or something?”

She shook her head. “I started an email, but I haven’t sent it.”

I chewed my lip and jabbed contemplatively with my spoon into the liquid. Steam was still rising steadily from it. I wished problems were like steam--I wished they’d just float away and disappear. “Do you want to meet them?”

“I do, but I don’t. I want to know who they are, but I just don’t know about meeting them in person. What if it’s some long lost psychopathic aunt? One that eats fingers and hair?”

I made a face. “First off, nasty. Second, I doubt it would be anybody like that.”

“You never know.” There was a pause. Then more quietly she said, “And worse--what if it’s my dad?”

I set my spoon down and picked up the mug. “Okay, so I know you think your dad was shitty, but what actually happened?”

She looked at me for a long time. Such a long time I thought she wouldn’t answer me--she’d been avoiding telling me and Eren for years, why change now?--but she just sighed. “He sexually harassed basically all my friends when I was eight and actually raped at least one of them.”

I swallowed thickly. “Oh.” I blew steam off my drink.

“Yeah. I got put in the system. When I was sixteen, I ran away. The rest you already know.”

“You came to stay with us.”

She nodded.

“You win,” I said after a long, tense several moments of silence.

“I win at what?”

“Your dad is worse than mine.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know, man. Having the shit beat out of you  _ is _ pretty bad.”

“Yeah, but you were  _ eight _ . At least I was a senior in high school.” I pounded my chest with a teasing grin. “I was a grown ass man!”

“Oh, whatever!” She kicked me.

“Owwwww,” I whined.

“Big baby.”

We both stuck our tongues out at each other. 

“So are you gonna do it?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“Meet up with Mike and your secret family admirer?”

I stared at her mug for several more minutes before saying, “You know what? Fuck this. I’ll do it. If it turns out to be a total douche, I’ll just leave. What do I have to lose?”

I patted her shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” I blew on my hot chocolate and deemed it suitable enough for consumption. It was still a bit hot for my liking, but it was good all the same. I downed it in one go. “I’m going to bed. Wake me up if I sleep too late.”

“Okay.” I rinsed my cup out and set it in the sink. As I was going around her, she snagged the edge of the my shirt. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. 

I smiled a bit and ruffled her hair a bit. I was reminded of when I saw her playing on the street corner years ago. She didn’t outwardly show it, but I could see in her eyes how lost she’d been. “Of course, but the next time you wake me up this early without a good reason, I’m going to put some bleach in your milk.”

She snorted and pushed me away. “Go to sleep, asshole.”

* * *

“I should really get a job,” I muttered to myself when fucking Princess Peach knocked me off the side of the road. I shut the Nintendo DS and put it back in the case I had for it. It cost me, like, seventy-five bucks with the charger, case, and games. Total steal.

It’d been a few days since Ymir told me about her being searched for. So far she hadn’t gotten any response back. I assured her it was because of the internet wire being cut by accident farther North. Everybody in the Southeast region of the state with that particular company was shit outta luck. 

Hence having my ass handed to me by stupid. Fucking. Princess. Peach.

The door was slammed open so forcefully I was sure there was going to be a dent in the wall from the doorknob. I jumped up off the couch. “What the actual--?”

“Jean!” Eren was breathless and looked actually quite frantic. His whole face was flushed, and his hair was everywhere as if he’d been running up the stairs. “We’ve got a gig for Friday and Saturday next week. A big one.”

“Well, don’t take it out on the wall!” I crossed my arms. A hole in the wall wouldn’t be fun to fix or explain to the landlord.

“No, you don’t understand!” He shut the door and moved forward to grasp my shoulders. “It’s at Pixis Stadium.”

I just looked at him for a moment. “What? No. You’re joking. That’s not even…”

He shook me. “I’m telling the truth. Tickets are on the internet already.”

“Wh-what? Don’t you have to sign on with him before you get to perform there?” 

“That’s what I thought, but this is more like a… trial, I guess. If we get good reviews, we might have a contract with him for a few years.”

A contract with a real agent? A really  _ good _ one? Dot Pixis was a man of legends. Anything he touched turned to gold--the groups and singers he took on always got at least two songs on the top forty charts--just enough to get the name out there--then he let them stay with him or go to a different agency should they choose.

“ _ Say something. _ ” He shook me again.

“How the  _ fuck _ did you manage this?!”

“I don’t--I didn’t--I don’t know! I was just going to get some damn coffee, and he just came and  _ sat at my table _ and told me we could play next week for him if we wanted, and I sure as  _ shit _ wasn’t going to turn him down.”

“O-oh my god, Eren.” I pulled him into a hug and lifted him off his feet and spun him around and  _ oh my god this was happening. _ He held on tight and was laughing with joy. “Where is--Ymir!” I yelled, not caring if Mrs. Purdue heard me. She could sic her little dog-beast-thing on us for all I cared.

Through the walls we heard a muffled. “I’m busy. What do you want?”

Eren wiggled until I set him down. “Too busy to hear about Dot Pixis?” he hollered back.

A few seconds later, the door to her room opened. “What about him?”

“We’re performing at the stadium next week on Friday and Saturday.” Eren and I were still grinning like shits.

Ymir has always been a loud, crass person, so I’ve only seen her speechless a few times. One time was when we were watching a documentary about animal cruelty, and the other time was when the three of us went to see an orchestra for a change of pace. There was a double bass solo so haunting I swear I almost saw her cry. I know  _ I _ was getting misty eyed.

Today marked the third time I’ve seen her speechless. Her lips were parted and looked like they were trying to form words, but nothing came out. 

Eren all but leapt down the hall in a single bound and hugged her so hard her breath was forced out of her. 

“What are we going to play?” I asked. 

We all looked at each other, suddenly horrified. We could  _ not _ screw this up.

And I totally didn’t need to get a job.  _ This  _ was my job--this was what I lived for.

* * *

I’ve done a lot of nerve wracking things in my life. I always got extremely nervous before each of my baseball games. Before our first performance, my nerves were shot because I knew I wasn’t exactly the greatest, and my hand liked to cramp up halfway through a song--not to mention the strap had a habit of popping off  _ while I was playing _ . I beat Eren at a game of beer-pong-minus-the-beer where we used three gallons of chocolate milk, and Ymir laughed at us when we flopped onto the floor, both of us looking quite green.

However, none of those could quite compare to when we stepped onto that stage Friday night to the sound of cheering and clapping.

The stadium wasn’t full by any means--it was freaking huge--but there must’ve been four times more people than we normally had, and we usually attracted a decent amount. 

I was suddenly very grateful for all the time I’d spent practicing even before I knew we were going to be performing here. I’d saved up enough money to buy myself a new bass several years ago and a new strap. It was better than the beat up, scratched one I got at a yard sale when I first started off. Plus, the strap  _ stayed _ on this one. I also didn’t need the sticky notes I’d taped on to keep track of the frets when I’d first started. 

The only real downside to playing the bass guitar was blisters every single time. When I’d first started out, my fingers hurt so bad I couldn’t play for several days after. I got calluses shortly after, and that made it hurt less, but still. Blisters, blisters, blisters.

My bass was already tuned when I stepped out, and so was Ymir’s guitar, but I felt a sudden urge to check mine again and make sure it was absolutely perfect. Eren settled behind his drum set, and we all exchanged a glance. 

_ Fuck. I’m going to die. I have to  _ say _ something. _

I took a deep breath and stood in front of one of the microphones. “Good evening.” I smiled and pretended I wasn’t totally nervous just like every other performance I’ve ever done.  _ Yeah, that’s right. It’s totally the same, _ I reminded myself. “How’s everybody doing?”

There was more applause and cheering. The lights, which were moving around like crazy before with amazingly bright colors, stopped, and there was a spotlight on each one of us. That made it almost easier, actually. I couldn’t see the people very well.

“Aw, come on. Is that the best you can do?” Eren demanded with a grin.

The audience’s shouts and hollers echoed off the walls and ceilings. Damn, the acoustics for this place were phenomenal. 

Without any further ado, I started up the first song we practiced--a song Ymir sang and had some pretty bitchin’ solo parts, if I do say so myself. 

My palms were clammy, and my fingers, toes, and nose were absolutely freezing, but it was like I was trying to sweat everywhere else. I read somewhere one time that when you’re really nervous, the “fight or flight” trigger can be set off, causing blood to go to the big muscles instead of the extremities.

After the first few songs were over, I started to loosen up more, and I even told dumb jokes between songs for the hell of it. Like, “What did the cannibal get when he showed up late to the party? The cold shoulder!” 

Ymir rolled her eyes at all my jokes and stupidity, and Eren actually threw a drumstick at me, causing the crowd to laugh and cheer. I threw it back, and he nearly fell off his seat trying to catch it. 

The night passed much faster than I anticipated, and three hours was over before I knew it. I found myself not wanting the night to end despite how tired I was by the end of it. People clapped for what felt like forever once we were finished with our last song, and we went backstage as they all slowly straggled out. Had there been alcohol here, I was positive the majority of them would be staggering instead. 

“That was fucking fun,” Ymir yelled at us once we were backstage. Her eyes were excited, and all the nervousness from earlier in the night was gone. 

Eren started tossing his drumsticks in the air to see how high he could throw the and still catch them. “God, I know!”

One of the doors across the stage, and in walked Dot Pixis himself.

Eren’s drumsticks hit the ground with a clatter. Ymir and I stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

Mr. Pixis The Legend smiled, and he reminded me of what a grandfather should look like. Who knew that a legend could look so… friendly and warm. Weren’t they supposed to glow and be totally even-skinned without sunspots or freckles or wrinkles--like plastic?

Apparently not.

“Quite the show tonight, boys!” Pixis inclined his head to Ymir. “And lady.”

Ymir blinked a few times and shut her mouth.  _ That makes one of us. _ “I-I’m not a lady.”

He gave a hearty chuckle. “Alright, then. I just figured I’d congratulate you all on a job well done.”

“Th-thank you,” I stammered. Eren nodded fervently.

Pixis seemed even more delighted at our reactions. He reached out and shook mine then Ymir’s hands. “It’s nice to meet you both.” He glanced at Eren and gestured with a thumb. “Your boy over here is quite the charmer.” Another boisterous laugh.

Eren sounded like he was positively dying.

_ Yeah, he’s a real charmer watching Scooby-fucking-Doo at four in the morning wearing only literal panties as he’s eating a whole tub of cookie dough ice cream. _

“Thank you. F-for the opportunity we really really appreciate it,” I managed to force out without totally annihilating my words. 

He gave another smile that reminded me again of a grandparent. “People know me for my name, and what kind of person would I be if I didn’t help other people who actually deserve to be known  _ get _ known?” He inclined his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” And he left. Just like that.

The three of us all stared at one another for a few moments. “I-I’ll get some waterbottles,” Ymir said and left in a daze.

“I gotta go to the bathroom before I shit myself,” Eren blurted and quite literally sprinted into the bathroom. I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t felt close to the same way.

Ymir returned a few moments later looking much less frazzled. “Where’d the angry elf go?”

“Bathroom,” I replied, taking the bottle out of her hands. I didn’t realize how thirsty I really was until my one sip ended up with me draining the whole bottle. My voice was working in that way that I knew would end up with me having a sore throat in the morning for days afterwards. I just hoped it would hold off until Sunday.

Eren poked his shaggy head out of the bathroom--I should really cut his hair; it’s getting in his eyes--and headed towards us. Ymir saw him and threw the waterbottle at him with an arm my baseball days would’ve really appreciated. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled as he caught and almost dropped the water-filled projectile. “What the fuck, Ymir?”

She grinned. “You gotta pay attention, loser.”

Even from down the hall we could hear the long, creative name he gave her. Ymir and I laughed.

“Victory round of milkshakes at Dairy Queen?” I inquired. I would’ve suggested a round of shots as a joke, but I highly doubted they’d understand how truly sarcastic I would’ve been.

Ymir whooped. Eren nodded excitedly. 

I smiled wide and headed toward the exit. I looked behind me to see Ymir following close by, but Eren was checking his phone. “You coming, Eren?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just lemme go say hi to somebody real quick.” He darted off. 

I shrugged and headed outside with Ymir. The night was cold, and my breath immediately made clouds in the air. I shoved my hands in my pockets where it was much warmer. I blew more air out of my nose and pretended I was a dragon.

A hard elbow to my ribs pulled me out of my thoughts. “Jesus,” I hissed. “What?”

Ymir tilted her head toward a girl standing at a bus stop in front of the building. She was reading one of our flyers against the stone as she waited. She was short--like really short--with fine, blonde hair framing her face. Even though there was a street light next to her, I couldn’t tell any other features from the distance. 

“Ohhhhh.” I elbowed Ymir back. “Go get her number or something.”

She squinted and shuffled around for a few more moments as she debated. Finally, she approached the blonde. Ymir leaned against the wall and smirked. I rolled my eyes, and so did the blonde. The two went back and forth until a bus rolled up. She disappeared inside it like Jonah into the Giant Whale. 

Ymir made her way back to me, but she wasn’t scowling or anything like that. No, she was actually grinning. 

“What happened?”

She pulled the collar of her jacket up more. “She flat out refused me, but damn, did that girl have a spark in her.”

I patted her shoulder. “Maybe you’ll see her sometime again.”

She snorted. “Right.”

We waited another couple moments before I said, “Should one of us go get Eren? I’m getting wor--”

“I’m here!” the devil himself yelled, rounding the corner of the building. “Sorry, it took a bit longer than expected--let’s go.”

So we went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, Eren, who were you "talking" to, I wonder??? Song for the chapter is the Mario Bros. Theme cause what the hell. Plus Royals by Lorde.


	8. Eren

The car ride to Dairy Queen was really normal even though that day was literally everything but.  _ We performed at Pixis Stadium holy shit. _

I can’t even begin to explain how  _ alive _ I felt. Yeah, I was nervous as hell, but it was so worth it. Hearing all those people attempting to sing along after the chorus had been repeated a few times was amazing. All the clapping made my whole self swell with pride at myself--what I’d done--and pride for Jean and Ymir. Both of them weren’t very good to start with, but they’d come  _ so far. _

Then with Mr. Pixis himself coming by to congratulate us after the show I was sure I was going to explode and implode simultaneously.

After all that, I even met up with Armin by the stage and away from the lights. He’d beamed. “Good job on your performance, Eren!”

I’d been bouncing with excitement. “Thank you! I almost thought I messed up when we started playing our third song cause I was certain my drumstick broke since I was beating the drums so hard they--”

My rambling was cut off by his really soft lips on mine. A few of his fingers were against my jaw to keep my steady, and his touch was feather light. If my brain hadn’t literally shorted out immediately, I would’ve been kissing him back and getting rid of all this excess energy I had. As it was, my eyes were closed, and I was leaning towards him.

Several seconds later, he’d pulled back and cleared his throat. He was blushing. “Ah, sorry. That might not have been okay with you. You just… looked so cute.”

I’d felt something like butterflies stir in my abdomen at that. Cute wasn’t something I’d been called in a long ass time. As an answer to his compliment, I’d held the back of his head and gave him another kiss, but I actually kissed him this time instead of being a limp noodle. 

There was a very small squeak, but he’d melted against my body right after. I had felt him lean against me more, and his teeth timidly nipped at my lower lip. I’d broken into a smile at that, and I sighed happily against his mouth. 

“Breakfast. Please,” I’d blurted once he pulled away. “I-I mean… Would you like to have breakfast with me Sunday morning? Unless you’re religious or something. Not that I’m against religion! But, like, we could got for l-lunch or dinner if you couldn’t go. I-if you want to go.” Pause. “Do you?”

My rambling was apparently amusing because he’d covered his mouth to stifle a giggle and nodded. “Yes, Eren. I’d love to go to breakfast with you.”

And as the final nail in the coffin because I  _ just _ couldn’t help myself… “Would you like to go as my date? It’s cool if you don’t! I can do just friends too if you… if you aren’t interested.” I was trailing off as I went. If I’d been sitting, my knee would’ve been jiggling horribly. I hadn’t asked anybody out on a proper date since, like, sixth grade. After that, I realized all the kids at my school were tragically stupid.

Story of my life.

If anything, his eyes somehow brightened even more. “I definitely would go as your date.” He bit his lip around a giant smile and flat out hugged me. The bone crushing kind that literally popped my back, not that he’d seemed to care. 

I returned the hug and stepped back, reminding him how I needed to get to the car, and my heart fluttered when he’d kissed my cheek in a sweet gesture.

I totally didn’t trip up the stairs.

* * *

Historia watched out the window as the bus pulled away from the stop. The girl she just talked to was still waiting there. She was grinning, and she actually looked crazy but not in a psychotic serial killer way. More like she would microwave a pen and be totally delighted at how much of a mess the explosion would make.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit psycho.

The other girl turned and went to some other skinny guy who was smirking. The two grew smaller and smaller as the bus drove away. Historia turned back around and crossed her legs as she waited for her stop.

Two stops later, she pulled out her phone and started scrolling through Instagram. She noticed some of her friends were at a concert that night. Upon closer inspection of the pictures, she realized it was the band posted outside Pixis Stadium. The one that girl from earlier said she was in. A good way into her news feed, she finally got some good pictures of the band members individually.

First was the drummer. He was throwing a drumstick at somebody and laughing. He also seemed a bit psychotic, but his was more of a teasing kind like a little kid seeing how many times he could poke an adult before laughing and running away. 

Second was the bassist. He was flipping somebody--the drummer, she assumed--off and laughing, eyes lit up like the stage lights. This one seemed the tamest of all of them somehow. The picture after that was him throwing the drumstick back at the drummer. 

Third and finally were a few pictures of that girl. In the first, she was pushing her hair off her face over the top of her head. The next one had her next to the bassist with the two of them singing into the same mic while he played. The final one was her singing into a mic and playing the guitar quickly enough that her fingers were blurred.

Historia got out of the app and did a quick Google search and looked at her calendar. Finally, she texted her best friend and roommate.  **Are you busy tomorrow nite?**

Moments later, she got a response.  **No why?**

**We’re going to see a concert.**

* * *

The three of us went up to the counter and waited in line. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long one since it was getting late. Ymir ordered a marshmallow shake, Jean got a cone with mint chocolate chip, and I got a banana split. We sat in a booth by a window and chatted while we ate. 

“Eren, you totally missed it. Ymir got totally shot down before you got outside,” Jean said, laughing.

I raised an eyebrow. “I was only gone for like fifteen minutes--you couldn’t keep it in your pants for that long?”

She shoved me, and I almost ended up on the floor. “Shut up, Jaeger. You should’ve seen her. She was literally a super short angel--blonde hair, blue eyes, small features--but she was short as hell.”

I was hit with irony from her comparison of hell and an angel. I didn’t mention it. “So what happened?”

Her grin was wider than that of the Cheshire Cat. “She was really polite at first, and she seemed interested when I told her I was the guitarist--she was looking at a poster of our band--but when I asked if she had a boyfriend, she said, ‘I think my grandma could get me wet before you do,’ and the bus pulled up, and she literally winked and gave a flirty wave and got on.”

I picked my banana split up and put it on her hand. “Here, this should help with that burn.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Fuck  _ off _ , oh my god.” Thankfully, she was laughing. 

Jean lightly kicked me under the table. “You’re both so stupid.”

The rest of our little ice cream date went like that. At one point, Jean even shoved his cone against Ymir’s nose causing her to kick him really hard under the table. I could feel my phone vibrating against my leg, and I wanted to check it really, really badly, but I stopped myself. This was my night with my family, and as much as I wanted to talk to Armin, I also needed to spend this time with these two idiots.

I actually felt like their babysitter sometimes.

We finally went home after none of us could stop yawning. All of us stumbled up the stairs and headed to our respective rooms after saying goodnight. I stripped and put on a t-shirt and pajama shorts before flopping down in bed and checking my phone. There were a few texts from Armin. 

**I really loved the concert tonight. You were hot tbh.**

**Wait was that too much? Oh god it was.**

**Please don’t kill meeeeeee.**

I rolled my eyes and snorted.  **Not gonna kill u** I replied.  **If i were i’d feed u to the dog next door**

A few minutes later, my phone lit up.  **You haVe A dOG nEXT DoOr???**

**More like rat**

**Dogs are precious.**

**This dog will eat ur ankles. Owner will eat ur heart out like Jeffrey Dahmer**

**Yikes.**

We kept talking like this until Armin finally admitted he was about to fall asleep. We said our goodnights, and I plugged my phone in. I literally couldn’t wait to perform again the next night. I was sure most of my nerves would be gone since I already knew what to expect. Honestly, I just wanted to impress Pixis. I wanted that contract. 

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard somebody stumble into the bathroom and start getting sick. I sat up.  _ What the hell? _

Slowly, I made my way to the bathroom. The door was closed and locked. I tapped lightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, m’fine,” Jean said. He cleared his throat, and I heard the toilet flush and vent turn on.

“Can I come in?” There was several seconds of silence before the lock clicked. I opened the door. Jean was leaning back against the counter with his head tilted back. “You okay?” I asked again. 

“I told you, I’m fine,” he replied with his eyes shut. He didn’t look fine, though. He looked really bad. His face was pale--well, paler than normal--except for some red splotches against his forehead and cheeks, and his hands trembled a little even though they were settled against the counter.

I reached forward and pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. It was extremely hot, and there was a thin sheen of sweat. “Jean, you’re sick.”  _ Wow, Eren, I’m sure he didn’t know that already what with him throwing up and the sweating. _

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Don’t be a fucking parrot. You are  _ not _ fine.” I grabbed his bony wrist and pulled him into the kitchen. He didn’t fight me--probably because he didn’t have the energy to. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” he grumbled. 

I pushed him down onto a bar stool and gave him a bottle of water. “Start drinking.” I started searching for the Tylenol and found some for the flu in the cabinet. I also grabbed two ibuprofen while I was at it. He took them while I started measuring out the Tylenol. “Take this too,” I told him, setting the tiny measuring cup in front of him.

He glared. “I’m not a fucking child. I can take care of myself.”

I cocked my hip against the counter. “You’re doing a really shitty job of it. You wouldn’t be sick right now if you’d eat something every once in awhile.”

He glared even more. “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

“How much do you weigh?”

There was a long pause. He fiddled with the bottle. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” I was shouting, and it was totally unnecessary, but I wanted to know. He’d been getting thinner and thinner, and I didn’t want to lose him too.

“Eren--”

I slapped my hand against the counter. “How. Much?”

“116 pounds!” he yelled back. “There, you happy?”

We looked at each other. No, I wasn’t happy. Not at all. He shouldn’t be that light. He was too tall for it. “Jean, you need to gain that weight back. You aren’t… you’re not healthy.”

He didn’t say anything--just finished off the water and turned around to head to bed. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and hugged him around the waist. I felt him stiffen. “Eren, what are you doing?”

I squeezed him and rested my forehead against his back between his shoulder blades. The ones that jutted out too far. My hands were pressed somewhere against his chest, and I could feel his ribs too. I’m not a cryer, but that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to hit him and cry and demand how he could do this to himself, but the logical part of me realized this would be the worst idea known to man right now.

“I’m hugging you, dumbass. Ever heard of it?”

His body rumbled a bit as he laughed and rested his hands over mine. They were thin and cool to the touch. “Yeah, I have.”

“You’re gonna get better, alright? You’re gonna do it for me and Ymir--you can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“You think dying is easy?” he asked quietly. 

I squeezed him tighter. “You’re not gonna fucking die if I have anything to say about it.”

There was a pause. “Okay. I won’t.”

* * *

We woke up the next morning in my bed. We didn’t do anything other than hold each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys actually just dodged a bullet. I was about to make Jean actually really sick, but then I decided nah, not right now. Plus, I'm debating doing a major character death at the end, but I probably won't because these nerds deserve to be happy.


	9. Ymir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's no you and me  
> This impossible year  
> Only heartache and heartbreak  
> And gin made of tears."  
> \--"Impossible Year" by Panic! At the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I keep updating and with longer chapters? I am literally on vacation, and I'm doing more writing now than I am at home with nothing to do wtf.

Somehow the next morning, I was the first person out of bed. Both losers were still asleep with their doors shut. It wasn’t long before I got hungry and was struck with an urge to make my own breakfast for once. I hadn’t cooked in so long, but it wasn’t something you forgot. Kinda like learning to ride a bike.

Deciding on French toast, I got all the stuff out, beat some eggs in a bowl with a little milk, cut practically half a loaf of bread in half--Eren would eat the whole thing if we let him--dipped the bread in the eggs--not for too long or it would get soggy, and the bread would just rip--and put it in a pan to cook. It didn’t take too long to make it all, especially since I turned the radio on and had a one-man, impromptu dance party. I started to get worried when neither boys came out by the time I was done.

Making sure the stove was off first, I went and knocked on Jean’s door. No answer. He wasn’t in there when I opened the door either. I worried my lip and shut the door again before knocking on Eren’s. There was some movement on the other side. “I’m opening the door,” I stated. No reply.

When I opened it, I saw Eren leaning back against his headboard looking tired as hell. “Hey,” he mumbled. His hand was buried in Jean’s hair. If anything, Jean looked somehow worse. He was way paler than normal, and there were heavy bags under his eyes. Not even bags--suitcases. “He got sick last night, so I’ve been taking care of him.”

I leaned against the door frame. “Well, you don’t really look like a sexy nurse, no offense.” The blankets were tossed and twisted all over the bed, and one blanket was even on the floor.

He looked down at his shorts and fucking Spiderman shirt before snorting. “I’m very sexy. Shut up.”

Jean groaned and scooted a little closer to Eren. Eren looked down at him with concern and felt his forehead again.

“How sick?” I asked.

Eren sighed. “He was throwing up last night and had a temperature. I made him come in here and lay down, but he kept dry heaving at times.” He rubbed his face. “He’s so thin. He’s only 116 now.” His green eyes met my brown ones.

I felt my stomach clench. “What’s he supposed to be?”

“I looked it up, and he should be about 140.”

“Oh,” I said because what else was I supposed to say? Somebody he cared about was extremely unhealthy, but Jean was somebody I cared about too. It was like when a grandparent died. You want to say _something_ to your other relatives, but you’re being affected too, so what even is there to say?

“Is he going to be okay?” _Is he going to die?_

“If he gains some weight back again. I think that might be why he got sick. He isn’t getting all the nutrients he needs since he isn’t actually eating anything.”

“I have French toast on the counter.” I gestured behind me with a thumb.

He blinked dubiously. “You can cook?”

I gave him a look. One I _hoped_ pierced his soul. “Of course I can.” How fucking rude. “I lived on my own for three years, idiot. I wasn’t living on Hardee’s every morning.”

“Okay, okay. Just watch him real quick. I have to take a piss so bad.”

“Fine.” He shifted away from Jean and got up to go. I moved over and sat on the bed kind of awkwardly. I literally did not know how to take care of people. Especially sick people. I moved to sit back on the bed like Eren was and picked the hair off Jean’s face. It was slightly damp, but he didn’t look like he was sweating anymore. “You look like shit.”

He shifted around, and his head ended up in my lap. I stiffened for a moment but remembered that this was Jean and not some creep trying to literally get in my pants. My hands went up and ruffled his hair gently so as not to cause a headache. His hair actually was pretty soft. I’d only felt it a few times, mostly because we’d been wrestling, and I’d yanked on it. It was much different to feel it when he wasn’t kneeing me in the stomach.

“You’d better not fucking die, shithead. We don’t have enough money for a proper funeral.”

“How inspirational.” Eren was leaning against the door like I was earlier. “He isn’t gonna die. Not if we start forcing him to eat.”

“He might die when I kick his ass for not eating in the first place.”

He crossed his arms. “You can’t do that. It’s a mental issue. I’m not sure if the idea of eating is extremely unappealing, if he thinks he’s overweight or fat when he looks in a mirror, or if it’s something else entirely.” He came forward, and the bed dipped as he sat on it and brushed a hand through Jean’s hair again. “We just have to be there for him.”

I nodded. “Okay. Should we wake him up and get him to eat something?” If he refused, I was going to shove food in that big mouth of his.

“Yeah.” He gently shook Jean’s shoulder. It could amaze me at times how careful he could be even though he was _Eren_ , but then I remembered he was a trained nurse with a degree and everything. I still couldn’t imagine him taking care of little old ladies. “Jean, you gotta get up.”

Jean groaned and threw his arms over his face. “Fuck off. My head hurts.”

“I’ll get you some medicine if you get up.”

“Can’t you just bring it to me?”

“No.”

“Whyyyy?” He rubbed his eyes.

“Jean, if you don’t get up, I’m going to drag you out of bed and into a bath with cold water,” I said.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “I’m sick. The least you could do it be nice to me.” He rubbed his nose and sniffed. The super runny nose type of sniff. Yikes.

“I _am_ being nice to you. I make a better pillow than Eren.”

Eren made a face like, _Wow, thanks. Totally not the time._ Jesus. When he got into nurse-mode it was like he had a giant stick stuck up his ass.

Jean patted my knee. “That’s true. Your leg isn’t so bony.”

“Well, yeah. I’m a girl. I have a girl body. Fat naturally goes to my butt, hips, and thighs. Thank you for that keen observation, horseface. Nothing gets past you.” My voice was so sarcastic. I should get an award for this shit.

He rolled his eyes and sat up. His face scrunched up, and he held his forehead. “God dammit.”

I got off the bed. “I made breakfast, and you’re gonna eat all of what we put on your plate.”

Jean looked genuinely surprised. “You can cook?”

“Jesus Christ, I _do_ have basic skills and knowledge about how to survive, you know.” I’m convinced they’re both assholes.

“I did not know, but now I do.” He stood up and stretched. “What’d you make?”

“French toast.”

“How ironic.” He looked amused and made his way to the kitchen.

“How so?” I followed, along with Eren, and made a plate for him with three pieces. I slid that and some syrup over to him. “You have to eat all of that, and you can’t get up until it’s gone.”

“Fuck.” He put some syrup on the side. “It’s ironic because I’m mostly French.”

“Ah.”

Eren sat down and started on his fucking seven pieces. “Good stuff, Ymir.”

I got the remaining four and put powdered sugar on it. “Better fucking be 'cause I don’t make breakfast every day.”

Jean looked up. “You haven’t made breakfast in the seven years we’ve known you.”

“What the fuck? Yeah, I--” I dug deep in my memory--like extremely deep--and came up totally blank. I mean, I’d cooked for myself but not for the whole group. Come to think of it, I’ve never actually made anything for them in terms of food. “Nevermind.”

Eren put his empty--what the actual hell? How’d he finish all that?--plate in the sink and dug in the cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and handed Jean two and some water. “There.”

Jean took them. “Thanks.”

I sat down in Eren’s seat. Eren leaned against the counter. “I think I should call Pixis and tell him we’ll have to delay the concert.”

I almost dropped my fork. “What?” Jean demanded. “Why? Cause I’m sick? I can still play, Eren. I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not. Far from it. I’m just worried you’ll get worse if you don’t rest.” He was keeping his voice even and calm. Jean, however, wasn’t having any of this self-control bullshit.

“People are _paying_ to see us, and if we miss this, we might not get on with Pixis. We are _not_ missing the opportunity of a lifetime just because I have the sniffles, got it?”

“You have more than the sniffles, stupid. You have the flu.”

Yikes. Tension was building and fast. The worst thing about Jean and Eren fighting was the fact that there was nobody to break them up. I certainly was not a good candidate for that. Occasionally, I’d break it up if it looked like they were going to start throwing punches, but other than that, I let them verbally duke it out.

“I’m not stupid.” Jean stood up. I noticed he finished at least two pieces of French toast out of the three. A small oasis in the desert, I guess.

“You’re _acting_ stupid. Do you _want_ to be bedridden over something that can easily be fixed now?” Now, Eren was obviously getting irritated.

“You’re overreacting! Don’t you want this?”

“Of course I want this.” Eren came around the counter to stand in front of Jean. “I want this _really_ bad, but not at the expense of anybody’s health.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Jean crossed his too-skinny arms over his chest. “You’re not my father.”

“You’re right--I’m not your father--because I’d never beat you all to hell and kick you out of your own house!” Eren’s eyes were bright with anger. 

Jean straightened up and pressed his lips together. Instantly, the fight drained right out of Eren. Regret was extremely evident on his face. He reached a hand out to touch Jean’s shoulder. “Wait, I--”

“Don’t touch me!” Jean snapped. He stepped back, and his hands curled into fists.

I decided now was a good time to intervene before either one of said anything else they’d regret later. “Jean, sit down and finish your breakfast. Eren, go in the other room or something for a little bit.” I moved closer to the two and put a hand on Eren’s chest.

Surprisingly, they listened. At least partially. Eren went in the other room and pulled on his coat and shoes before leaving the apartment to hopefully walk off some steam.

Jean sat down and glared at his plate. I leaned against the counter across from him. “He really does care,” I said after a long pause.

He glared up at me too. “I don’t give a shit.” The way he was sniffling more than before begged to differ.

“Um, yeah, you do. Both of you care about each other.”

“So?” He stabbed at the last of his French toast.

“So you shouldn’t be mad at him for it.”

“ _I’m_ not the one that brought up shitty parents.”

I sighed. “He shouldn’t have done that, but you already know he’s an asshole. We all are, and we all know we are.”

“Well, I wish we fucking weren’t. Why can’t we be actual good people that give and accept affection like _normal_?” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “We’re not normal. Nothing about us is.” When he looked up at me, his eyes were anguished. “Your dad and mine were assholes. Both of Eren’s parents fucking died.” His voice started rising, and he slowly unraveled right before my eyes. “You ran away. Eren started cutting, then he threw himself at other people to forget his own problems. I became an alcoholic and can’t even smell it without craving it again. We’re so fucked up? Why are we like this, Ymir--why?!”

I blinked a couple times. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him get this emotional. My mouth worked, trying, trying, trying to string together _something_ to say to that. I only had to move my lips and tongue somehow to make 26 sounds to 26 letters that make all the words in the English fucking dictionary, but no matter what I thought of, it all sounded shallow somehow. Half-hearted.

With him sitting there looking broken and me sitting next to him feeling broken, I threw my arms around him and squeezed him. He hugged me back just as hard. I’m not a crier--I haven’t been since my fourth foster home--but I felt tears threatening. I closed my eyes tight, so they wouldn’t escape.

Jean shook a little bit, and I realized that this wasn’t something sudden or new. This had been building up for quite some time--building up in all of us. Maybe it was being in all those bars that brought back bad memories for him. Maybe it was the random guys that hit on me that reminded me of what happened to my friend when I was young. Maybe it was whenever news of a car accident came on the radio news for Eren. Whatever it was that wouldn’t let us escape our pasts and memories, it had been haunting us for as long as we could remember.

Why all this decided to come out now, was totally beyond me. It was probably because things were _changing._ Eren was finally branching out and learning how to connect to more people--evident through somehow talking with Pixis about the deal they made, and his new, weird friendship with Armin. I was possibly going to meet some long-lost relative. The three of us are moving up in the world.

I guess this was yet another change--all these emotions. Maybe by the time this was all through--whenever and if it ever “ends”--we would all end up letting go of some of our pent up aggressions and insecurities. Who knew? Nobody does. The only thing we can hope for is that things change for the better.

I pulled away after I don’t know how long and rubbed my eyes. Thankfully, I wasn’t crying. Jean wasn’t as lucky. He used his thumbs and wiped them away, clearing his throat.

“Finish your food, and we can watch a movie or something. If you’re gonna play tonight, you should probably rest beforehand,” I said.

He nodded and ate the rest of his breakfast without protest. The two of us sat on the couch and watched _The Iron Giant_ until we both ended up falling asleep.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of people talking. Not wanting to interrupt, I pretended to still be asleep.

“... do you want?” Jean.

“I wanna apologize.” Eren. “I shouldn’t have said anything about your father. I’m sorry.”

Wow. The world must be ending. Eren actually apologized sincerely. Dammit, I wish I had a recording of that.

“You really shouldn’t have said anything about it. That was a real dick move.” And leave it to Jean to rub salt in the wound. “But I accept your apology. I know you just wanna keep me safe or some shit like that.”

There was the sound of some movement. “You’re part of my family--of _course_ I want to keep you safe.”

“I understand.” Pause. “Thank you.”

Eren cleared his throat, and I heard feet shuffle a bit. “I met somebody,” he blurted out rather loudly.

I almost facepalmed. Out of all the times to tell him about Armin, Eren had to choose right fucking _now_ to do it.

The couch shifted where Jean was. “Do you want a gold star?” I could practically feel him roll his eyes. God, he was so dense sometimes.

“No. No, no. I mean I _met_ somebody.” There was a pause. I couldn’t tell if Jean was processing this or if it literally went over his head again. “I had sex with him.”

“Oh. _Oh_. That uh… makes more sense.”

“Yeah.”

Oh my god. Could these idiots get any more awkward? I was practically choking on it. I was half tempted to “wake up”, but I didn’t know if they’d ever actually finish their talk if I did. Plus, I wanted to listen.

“I just wanted to tell let you know,” Eren mumbled. “Cause we’re, um, going to breakfast tomorrow morning.” When there was no audible answer, he rushed on. “Th-that doesn’t mean you aren’t important or anything. Cause you are, but I just, uh, I like us as we are. I like us as friends. I don’t know what I want as a future in terms of marriage and children and whatever, and I know I want to grow old with you but not… in… the same… bed?”

Shut up, Eren. You’re just making it worse. I’m getting secondhand embarrassment from it. Literally, shut your mouth.

I felt more movement next to me from Jean. “It’s not you it’s me, right?”

There was a noise, and I cracked my eyes enough to see Eren had kneeled in front of Jean. “No, no. I think if we were together, we’d be happy, but it’s been almost a decade, and we haven’t done anything in terms of dating.”

“ _I moved in with you._ ”

“I know you did.” I heard more movement. “Wait, no. Stop. Just _wait_ a minute, okay? Hear me out.”

There was a loud huff, but I felt him settle back down again.

“When we met, neither of us was in a place to be in a relationship. At all. Honestly? I would’ve only ended up hurting you. I _did_ hurt you, and I’m really sorry for that. Some time passed, and we were both eventually ready, but we never did anything other than the occasional benefits part. We never held hands or did the things couples do, you know? Don’t get me wrong--we were really good friends. I was closer to you than I’d ever been to anybody since--” He stopped when his voice broke and cleared his throat.

“If we’d gotten together then, I think we would’ve been happy and okay. We didn’t, though. Nothing has happened for so long. Our time just… passed. I know this sounds extremely cliche and stupid, but I really do enjoy being your friend, and I want to still be there for you. I want to be able to listen to you vent about your day still and make sure you realize how hard headed and stupid you can be at times.

“Can I still be your friend? Please?”

There wasn’t an answer for a while. I cracked my eyes again and saw that Jean was biting his lip pretty hard. Eren’s face was open and nervous. Fucking finally, he said, “Y-yeah, okay.”

I kept my eyes open long enough to see Eren look extremely relieved. “Thank you.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Jean’s voice was kind of thick, and I hoped to god he didn’t start crying.

I heard Eren’s knees pop as he stood up. “Yeah. I’m sorry to wake you. Are you sure you’ll be okay for tonight?”

“I’ll be fucking _fine_ . Jesus, _Mom_.” Sarcasm. At least he wasn’t crying, screaming, or both.

Eren only laughed. “I’ll wake you both up when we have to get ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

There were footsteps as Eren went to his room and shut the door. Jean laid down with some pillows on my feet. The couch shifted as he got comfy.

Just as I was falling asleep, I felt a little bit of shaking and heard tiny gasps. Motherfucker. He was crying. I bit my lip and sighed internally. Part of me felt like this whole thing was my fault since I talked to Eren about it, but the other part of me reminded myself that I told Eren to move on _or_ make a move. In the end, it was Eren’s choice to decide to date somebody else.

However, that didn’t make it any easier on Jean, and I felt bad about that.

I moved around and let my hand drift to his hair as if I was just shifting around in my sleep. My fingers running through his hair seemed to calm him a little bit, and I waited until he was asleep again before I let myself drift off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated! Thank you for the kudos omfg I love you guys ^w^


	10. Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops it's been almost a month since I posted last. Enjoy the chapter.

Being officially broken up with when you weren’t even actually together sucks major balls. Take it from somebody who knows. That quote or whatever the fuck it is about not knowing what you have until it’s gone? Definitely the truth. 

When I was in fifth grade, I got braces. The orthodontist gave me a list of things I wouldn’t be able to eat, so I wouldn’t risk breaking a wire. The list consisted of popcorn of any kind, gum with sugar (sugar would eat up the metal apparently), cotton candy (same reason), apples, corn on the cop, taffy, and basically anything else hard. Before I’d gotten braces, corn on the cob was never something I really ate and neither were apples, but once all that titanium got cemented in there, it was like I couldn’t get enough of it. Being the idiot I am, I made sure to have everything they told me not to just to prove I could--thankfully nothing broke.

This whole situation was like that. Before, I knew Eren was there, and I really did like him even though he wouldn’t be my first choice. After, I couldn’t have him, and that’s when I really wanted him.

I wanted him when he woke me up to start getting ready. I wanted him when he was singing along to some song on the radio on the way to the stadium. And I wanted him when he was making final adjustments to the drumset before the show. 

I was fully aware of how much of an asshole I was being. Logically, I knew it was a good thing he moved on--for both of us, but that didn’t make it any easier. Luckily, I had other things to focus on.

The concert that night was as amazing as the one last night. I noticed that the seats were filled up more than before. Through my inner turmoil and pain, my chest got light for a moment because we’d _ made it. _ Almost. Close enough. Even if this deal didn’t go through, this many more people knew about us. 

Our time on the stage was over too soon, and before I knew it, Ymir had strummed her last chord. All the people were drunk or designated drivers, and their cheers and laughter were imprinted on my brain, and I loved it all. It made me forget my own turmoil.  _ This  _ was why I performed. The cheering, attention, and love from all these fans. I couldn’t even put it into words if I tried.

We waited backstage for twenty minutes while everybody else stumbled out the doors. I kept myself busy by trying to come up with a bitchin’ bass line and pointedly ignoring Eren. I wasn’t doing very good at either of them.

Finally, we were able to go on stage and get the drum set. By now, it was easy to take it down and put it in the boxes just for it. The three of us worked quickly, fatigue starting to take over. 

I was getting a bit worried about what Pixis thought of the performance. We hadn’t heard anything from him. Would he tell us how we did? Was he going to ignore us completely if we did a horrible job? Maybe he would call us in the morning?

As if the universe had heard my thoughts, the doors to the backstage opened and in walked Pixis. Thankfully, we weren’t as dumbstruck as before.

“Good evening, Mr. Pixis,” I said, straightening up.

He waved a hand. “No need to be so formal.” He was smiling.

“How were we?” Eren asked. He chewed on his lip. I looked away from him towards Pixis.

“Wonderful.” Pixis’s smile grew. “I won’t beat around the bush. I thought you were absolutely fantastic, and I’d like to offer you a contract for two years.”

Dead silence for what felt like two hours. Could it really be that simple?

“Unless you don’t want it…”

“Yes!” Ymir yelled, eyes wide. “We want the contract.”

He bowed his head momentarily. “Good. We’ll be in touch about the finer details sometime this week, hm?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, and we all nodded furiously. “Great! Oh, and you can leave your instruments here if you’d like. Nothing will happen to them.” Without saying anything else, he turned on his heels and strode out, whistling an old tune to himself.

We all looked at each other. I knew we were all thinking about how quick and, well, easy that was. “I… We should start writing some more songs,” I said.

They both nodded. “Yeah,” Eren replied faintly. 

We moved our instruments to the backstage first before we left and went home. We didn’t talk much on the way home since we were so tired and with what happened earlier today with me and Eren. 

I had no doubts about Ymir knowing what happened. She can be a light sleeper sometimes because of her runaway years. Plus, she even told us once that she pretends to be asleep sometimes just so people leave her alone. Either way, I wasn’t going to do something stupid like make her choose sides. There weren’t even any sides to choose from anyway.

Once in the house, I got in the shower before anybody else could. I looked down at myself while the water pounded on my head and shoulders as I washed myself. My hipbones jutted out more than they should've, and my limbs were thin. I just looked too unhealthy for my age. It was no wonder Eren didn’t want me. 

Without warning, tears pricked at my eyes, and I started to cry. This was so horrible. I could die soon. My inability to fucking  _ eat something _ was going to kill me. I was dying slowly, and that scared the shit out of me. 

I don’t like people knowing I’m a crier, but I am, and that used to bother me--I thought I was weak--but after I started learning how to be a counselor, I realized it wasn’t at all a weakness. Even so, I didn’t like crying. My eyes got all puffy, and my nose tingled, and my throat hurt, and it was just a huge mess.

I rubbed my nose and swallowed thickly. I felt horrible. Deep breaths didn’t help. Imagining the water washing away all my negative thoughts and feelings helped a little, but I still was upset. I knew I was just tired--I knew myself well enough to know that I always got touchy when I was sleep deprived--but I didn’t  _ feel _ tired yet. 

There was a knock on the door, and it made my heart jolt. “Is your skinny ass done yet? I gotta change.”

“Go change in your room, Ymir.”

She huffed dramatically as if I were the biggest idiot on the planet. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that? I don’t have to change my clothes, stupid, I’m on my period.”

“Fine, fine.” I turned the water off and stepped onto the mat to dry off. My hair was still wet when I secured the towel around my waist and opened the door. Her eyes flicked over me, but thankfully, she didn’t comment on how thin I was.

“Fucking finally. I thought you fell down and couldn’t get back up.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha ha. You’re so fucking funny.” 

“At least I know I can be a comedian if being in a bad doesn’t work out.” She hip bumped me out of the way. “Now get out.” She grabbed for the waistband of her skinny jeans. “Unless you’re wanting to see the river run red.” Her grin could rival that of a shark’s.

“Um… no, thanks.” I shut the door once I stepped into the hallway. 

Ymir was a strong feminist. She believed you shouldn’t have to shave your legs if you didn’t want to even though she did for the most part since that was her own personal preference. She was a part of the Free the Nipple movement and even was in some of the protests they’ve had. Her opinions on things like birth control--it should definitely be and stay legal--abortion--she personally has said she wouldn’t be able to have one, but she believed it should be available for people who need it--equal pay, and having feminine products supplied to girls who need them--since she was on the streets and struggled with being able to afford having them with them being expensive--were voiced regularly. 

So her offering to let me see her blood just now wasn’t surprising. At all.

I opened my own door and shut it behind me. I was still a bit fidgety, wound up. And for the first time in years, I wished I had a baseball bat in my hands.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against my door with a sigh. Hitting baseballs coming at me at high speeds was always a good stress reliever for me in high school. Whenever my brother pissed me off, I went to the batting cages. Even though my parents were the ones that made me sign up, I enjoyed it immensely. 

Slowly, I slid down until I was sitting. Would the indoor batting cages at the gym still be open? I thought the one in town was open twenty-four hours. There was only one way to find out.

I got up and searched my room for a clean t-shirt--no easy feat since I hadn’t done laundry in like ten years--and went into the living room. Thankfully, nobody was out there to see me go. I grabbed the nearest piece of paper--an empty envelope--and left a note saying I was out and would be back later. Without waiting any longer, I grabbed my keys and left.

Finding the gym wasn’t easy since I hadn’t been there for a long time. In case you couldn’t tell, working out wasn’t my forte. I got winded going up one flight of stairs. 

Once I finally found it on the outskirts of town--thank god for Google maps--I parked and went inside. It was honestly creepy. The place obviously was built at least fifty years ago, and the last health code check must’ve been twenty years ago because the place looked like it could fall over if there was a strong enough wind. The fluorescents were dim from years without replacement, and half of them were turned off.

I approached the lady behind the counter. She looked totally thrilled to be here. “Um, could you tell me where the batting cages are?”

Her eyes rolled up to me. She was probably thirty or so. “In the back outside.” I could feel her silently judging my extremely skinny arms. “Bats and helmets are back there too.”

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat awkwardly and made my way to the back. I was extremely relieved to be getting out of that building. The back was brightly lit. At least I didn’t have to worry about being mugged by surprise. 

There were three batting cages--fast, medium, and slow--lined up next to each other with chain-link fence around and separating them. Other things outside included two basketball courts with the netting missing off all but one of the hoops, an area for somebody to do gymnastics--the bar thing, the little hoops hanging from the ropes, and other totally sturdy-looking bars to spin around on all on top of a padded mat and under a wooden overhang--a track around a field for either soccer or football, and a baseball diamond way off in the distance. It was nice that the place had all these things, but I still felt like I was going to get shanked. Thankfully, nobody was around.

I made my way over to the cages. Above the machine was a sign stating, 

**Five hits……….$5**

**Ten hits………..$8**

**Twenty hits……$15**

**Thirty hits……..$20**

“Jesus Christ, ya fuckin’ jerkoffs. Money doesn’t just magically appear.” I dug my wallet out of my pocket and searched around. Just my luck--I only had a twenty. Muttering profanities the whole time, I jammed it in the damn thing and got a bat before going inside the fast speed.

The first ball took me totally by surprise and nearly hit me in the chest. I jumped back, heart pounding in my chest. “I wasn’t fucking ready!”  _ Whiz. _ Another ball sped by. I dodged that one too and got into position. I held the bat in front of me--hands not too far down on the bat and not too far up--knees bent, feet far enough apart to give me a good stance. The third ball flew out of the machine, but I wasn’t ready mentally since it hit the cage behind me.

I clenched my jaw and drew little circles in the air with the bat in concentration. “Come on,” I mumbled. “Stupid machine.”

The giant hunk of metal flung the fourth ball at me, and I reacted, all those years of high school coming back to me. The bat connected with the ball, and it went straight into the ground. I shrugged to myself. It was a bad connection, but it wasn’t horrible for not playing in such a long time.

It took until ball seven to get a good hit on them, and after that, I was hitting them harder and harder. I hit one for my stupid feelings getting in the way of everything. One for not being able to eat anything. One for Eren and him being infuriatingly right about everything. One for me for still liking--even loving--him. 

I hit one for this stupid sport I used to love. One for the my parents making me join in the first place. One kissing that boy. One for liking it so much. One for Dad for being such a dick and not letting me be myself. One for Mom for not doing something about him hitting me, not asking me to come home. Several for all the names he called me-- _ embarrassing. Stupid. Man whore. Fag. Liar.  _ One for even thinking alcohol could help anything, and one for letting that shit control my life for so long. 

By the time I was done, I was sweating and panting, and my arms were hurting so much. I was drained and tired, and I wanted to cry. 

I flung the bat down with a noise of frustration and grief. Tears pricked at my eyes again. I buried my hands in my hair and paced back and forth until I finally stopped in front of the cage wall and sank down to the ground. My throat felt tight, and my nose tingled again. I finally just leaned back and sobbed into my hands. God I was crying so much today. It was freaking ridiculous how much my head was starting to hurt. 

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there, but I finally managed to stop the waterworks and sniffling. When I stood up, I used the fence for support--my legs went numb from the crouching. 

“Shit,” I said under my breath. I leaned back against the wall and let my head tip back, so I was looking at the cage’s ceiling. I closed my eyes and waited for my legs to get some feeling back in them. It didn’t take too long, but I stood there for a bit longer just because.

I listened to my breath, but it wasn’t labored and heavy anymore. I could finally breathe again normally. My chest didn’t feel heavy with the built up emotions I’d been keeping in. My arms were warm and still tense and tired from hitting the balls so hard, but it felt good. They’d definitely be sore tomorrow, but it was so worth it. I should’ve done this earlier. 

The longer I stood, the more I noticed the stillness around me. The stars were shining brightly, and it was easier to see them without as much light pollution from being directly in town. The sound of crickets could be heard from where the grassy parts were. All was silent except for the sounds of rattling and thumping…

I opened my eyes and lifted my head. What the hell? Was there somebody else here?

I stepped out of the cage and put my bat back where it was supposed to be before looking around. There was a silhouette moving around on the bars in the gymnastics portion. Quietly, I made my way over there and watched. 

The figure was doing a whole bunch of things on the mats now that I couldn’t possibly keep track of. From my viewpoint, I could see that they had dark hair and tanned skin. I held onto the chain link fence with my fingertips and kept walking, enthralled by the grace this person had.

Several minutes later, they seemed to realize I was there because they stopped and looked right back at me. “Can I help you?”

I blinked several times. “Uh sorry. I just saw your,” I waved my hand around, “things and yeah. They’re pretty… cool?”

Jesus Christ, Jean.

They smiled, and I thought they were laughing at me, but they weren’t. “Thank you.” They came closer to the fence, so I could see their face. There were freckles smattered all over, and they had warm, brown eyes. They stuck a few fingers through the fence. “I’m Marco.”

I shook their--his?--fingers. “Jean. Not John. Jean.”

He nodded and smiled again. “Jean.”

“Yep.”

We both looked around awkwardly. “Are you… okay?” he asked finally. “I saw you beating those balls and just um…  _ Are _ you okay?”

I felt my face heat up. Oh, great. Somebody saw all that. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” A yawn crawled up my throat and split my face open. Doing all that must’ve worn me out way more than I thought. “Thanks for asking.”

He smiled again. “No problem.” His face turned an endearing shade of red. “I liked your bass solo tonight, by the way.”

I blinked, surprised. “You were there tonight?” My lips tilted up on both sides despite myself. I mean, come on. An attractive person complimenting you on your bass solo? Definitely mood lifting. I knew playing bass was a good idea. 

“Yeah. My friend brought me. She insisted since she liked the guitarist, and it’s my birthday. N-not that that matters or anything.”

“Happy birthday, Marco.”

He looked down for a moment sheepishly. Damn, he was cute. “Thanks.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. His smiles were contagious. “Yep. By the way, if your friend is blonde and into chicks too, tell her she has a chance. Ymir has a thing for blondes.”

“Oh, she knows. She met her last night. That’s when she got the tickets. She said she was coming home, and she actually shot Ymir down.” He laughed. 

“Seriously?  _ She’s _ your friend? I saw them talking.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Wow.”

I nodded in reply. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around sometime if they decide to… be friends or something.”

He smiled yet again and nodded. “Maybe.”

I let go of the fence and waved as I started walking away. He waved back, and I kept glancing back as I made my way to the building again. 

_ He’s really cute, _ I mused to myself. Then I shook my head. No. No doing anything right now. You’re getting over Eren. You don’t need the confusion of another person.

I sighed to myself as I got in the car and made my way home. Why couldn’t life just be  _ easy _ for once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw the song is "I Don't Dance" from High School Musical since I think I'm funny.


	11. Eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin and Eren have their date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my godddd this is so overdue. I got caught up in school starting again and yikes, kiddos. This chapter is longer than I normally make them by like 1,000 words which isn't much, but I mean, I wrote literally over half of it today. Comments are always welcome!

Even though I was super tired after the concert, I had a hard time sleeping. I was really excited to be meeting up with Armin in the morning. That and Ymir and I found the note Jean left saying he would be back later. I knew he wouldn’t do something dumb like stay out all night or talk to strangers in some shady place, but I still worried anyway. Thankfully, he came back a couple hours after he left.

I thought about trying to talk to him, but the more rational part of me made the executive decision to give him space. It'd only been like twelve hours anyway. 

When I finally did fall asleep, I woke up way later than I wanted to in order to get ready. I looked at my alarm clock--9:43--and blinked slowly. We'd decided to meet at a café at 10:15. The only thing was it was halfway across the city, and I was still in my Batman boxers. “Shit.”

I jumped out of bed and looked around. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to lay out my clothes the night before. I grabbed them off where they were folded on the dresser and ran into the bathroom to quickly shower, get dressed, brush my teeth, and apply deodorant. I was totally pissed I didn't have enough time to fix my hair, but I didn't want to be any later than I undoubtedly would be. 

Driving over definitely would've been much easier, but I wasn't about to ask Jean for a ride and, stealing his keys would be definitely unacceptable. So I made sure to grab my wallet and a stuff it in my coat pocket as I was heading out the door.

“Whoa, where’re you headed, hot stuff?”

I stopped with my hand on the handle. “I'm going out.”

“Well no fucking shit, Sherlock.”

“Why do you need to know?” I snapped. Being late wasn't something I handled well, and the clock on the microwave told me it was 9:58.

“You never go out without fixing your hair,” she replied, totally unfazed by my attitude.

I let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed my hands through my hair. “I know, I know. I'm going on a... on a date, and I'm late,” I swear to God I heard her quote  _ Alice in Wonderland _ , “and I have to  _ go. _ ”

“Alright. Jesus. Go. But you might want to not look like you're on some sort of stimulant once you're there.”

“Duly noted.”

“No unprotected sex either!” she yelled after me as I fled down the stairs. God, did she say that loud enough?

People gave me sideways glances as I ran past them in an attempt to get to the café before 10:15. I swear to God I could've beat Usain Bolt with how fast I was going. Which I wasn't complaining since I'd been wanting to get more cardio in my workouts--I mostly did weight lifting whenever I decided to get off my ass.

Wait, nevermind. Complaining. So much complaining. I couldn't breathe. Fuck. I made it. But Jesus bloodsucking Christ. I was bent over. I remembered from gym so long ago how I shouldn't do that and straightened up. I held my hands on top of my head. Was I supposed to be dizzy?

“Eren?”

I glanced over and saw Armin standing inside the door of the shop looking concerned. “Oh. Hi.”

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows were furrowed with concern. 

“Totally. Never better.” I leaned back against the building. “W-water?”

He nodded and took my elbow to lead me inside. Before I could do anything, he shooed me to a table by the window and got me a glass of water. I thanked him and sucked that shit down like a hot, hard, long--

Nevermind.

“Did you  _ run _ here?”

I glanced up. “Maybe.”

He looked bewildered, eyes wide and lips parted. “You could've just let me know you were running late, Eren. I would've understood.”

“Totally lame.” I winked, though the effect was a bit lost since I was still wheezing like a smoker. Which I wasn’t. Honestly, I’d only had a smoke once or twice in high school, but not being able to breathe while I was smoking it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. 

He rolled his eyes. “So you would've rather died from cardiac arrest?”

“Death sounds like a blessing right now.” I leaned back in my chair. Thankfully, my breath was starting to come back. “Is death actually that bad, though? I mean come on with Christians and the whole prospect of heaven.” I knew if I was still a Christian, I’d be going to hell just for the amount of times I used the Lord’s name in vain. 

He stopped and pondered for a moment. “Death isn't bad for the person that died. It's bad the people that knew them. Obviously, actually dying would be painful since you're either drowning, suffocating, getting crushed, or some other way, but I can't speak for whatever the afterlife is like.” 

I nodded slowly. Talking about death reminded me of what happened with me. The nurses told me I’d died for almost a full two minutes in the ambulance, and a paramedic brought me back to life. “That's true. I just hope when I die, people don't try to make me out to be bigger than I was, you know? Like how if a kid gets shot or something, their family starts an organization for them against gun violence because they were such and good person and all that when really, they were just average.”

“That's understandable. You want to be remembered for who you  _ are _ , not what other people  _ want _ to remember you as.”

“Exactly.” I chewed on my straw.

He smiled at me, and I openly admired the color of his eyes. So bright and blue, like the ocean and the sky had a love child then the water/sky baby had a child with a sapphire. I’m nowhere near the poet Jean is, but for some reason, I wanted to jot down a few lines about the wind and waves and polishing of stone and cerulean, navy, cobalt, arctic, berry, and just blue, blue, blue, blue,  _ blue. _

Man, that was intense. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly with a small smile. “You look like you’re concentrating really hard.”

I blinked a few times. “Um. Nothing. I’m just constipated.”

That caused him to giggle. “Gross.”

I scoffed. “Are you saying you don’t shit?”

He laughed again, and there was a sudden jolt in my belly. Oh god. “No, no, no. I do, but we’re in a cafe; you can’t just talk about feces!”

I leaned back and crossed my arms. “Shit. Feces. Poop.”

“Stop ittt!” he groaned, but he was still trying not to laugh, and I found it extremely adorable. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I waved a hand. “So? We can find some other place to eat. I can make some good sausages. You know, nice, long, tasty ones.” I winked suggestively. He spluttered, and I added, “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Armin’s face was so red. The best part about making dirty jokes was seeing people’s reactions to it. “Eren, no. That was one time. God.”

I leaned forward and planted my elbows on the table. My eyes captured his, and he maintained the eye contact. “It could be more than one time. If you were into that sort of thing.” Slowly, I grinned and bit my lip.

“I, ah…” His eyes glanced down to the table, and he wrapped his hands around his own glass of ice water. “I’m d-definitely into that sort of thing.” He swallowed thickly and looked nervous.

“Hey, I'm not offering to take you to bed right this minute. I'm just trying to see where I stand.”

“Oh.” He offered a small smile. “Okay. I’m okay with that stuff just not right now. I don’t normally have sex with people I just met, but you’re the singer to a band I very much enjoy, and you’re quite attractive. I couldn’t help myself.”

I could feel my head get bigger. “Yeah?”

“Yep.” He puffed a bit of hair out of his eyes. “Totally. So strong and handsome.” His  face turned mock serious. “I could use your dick to cut diamonds with how hard it was.” Even though his lips kept twitching like he wanted to smile really bad, he managed to keep a straight face.

I, however, didn’t even try. “Armin!” I laughed. “You can’t just talk about boners in a cafe.”

“Boner. Erection.”

That only managed to make me laugh harder. I was used to being the one to embarrass people, but being embarrassed was another thing altogether. I laughed uncontrollably when I was nervous, and being on a date for the first time in forever was definitely nerve wracking. “Min, you crack me up.”

“Obviously,” he replied with another smile. 

A noise that sounded an awful lot like a noise of disgust came from the table next to us, and I glanced over. Sitting across from each other was a guy and a girl, both dark haired--probably siblings by how similar they looked. They were very obviously trying to pretend we weren’t there. 

I squinted at them for a moment before I turned back to Armin. I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt since I was in a good mood, and I sorta had to be on my best behavior since I was, y’know, on a  _ date _ . The last thing I wanted to do was ruin it even more than I already did by being late. 

“You ready to order? I’m starving,” I said, and he nodded in agreement. We both stood up, and I extended my hand--after I made sure there wasn’t any sweat on it, of course. 

He smiled brightly and took it. I liked the way he laced our fingers together way more than I would ever admit. Especially with how warm his wrist was against mine. I noticed that his palm was awfully soft, and his hands were about the same size as my own. Standing next to each other, I saw that he was a bit shorter than I was, and I wanted to see if his head were to fit right under my chin if I hugged him. 

However, the stares our joined hands were getting from the dynamic duo stopped me. 

I was totally going to let them go. I was going to go order my food and sit back down with Armin and have a nice morning. Maybe we could’ve gone on to have a nice day together, and we could’ve, I don’t know, seen a movie or some cliche shit. That didn’t happen, though, because of  _ course _ that dumb bitch had to mutter to her companion as we passed, “God, I can’t believe we have to sit next to a bunch of fags.”

I stopped dead and turned to look at them. “What’d you just say?”

The girl looked up at us, obviously surprised that we heard her. “I-I said I can’t believe we have so many bags.”

Totally not fucking true. They literally both had one bookbag each. “Really? Cause I could’ve sworn I heard ‘fags.’”

Armin tugged on my arm. “Eren, just let it go. They aren’t even worth it.”

“I don’t think I will, Min.” I glanced at him for a moment before looking back at the other table. “Why would you say something like that?”

The girl only blinked. “I don’t--”

“Oh, come off it. I know the word ‘fag’ when I hear it, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t mean a cigarette.”

Finally, her companion came to her defense. “Hey, man. She didn’t mean it. She was just messing around.”

My eyes slid to glare at him. “Calling somebody an offensive slur is just messing around?” I knew I was probably making this into a big deal--she was just some stupid teenager who didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut--but I’d been called shitty things way too many times to lay down and just take it. 

The girl’s face dropped her innocent ruse. “Fine, I did call you fags, but honestly, it’s your own fault.”

I felt my blood boil. “My. Own. Fault?”

“Um, yeah. If you don’t wanna be called that then don’t be gay.”

“Don’t be gay,” I repeated, my brain still trying to catch up to what she was saying. 

“Yeah. Don’t be gay. It isn’t that hard. I know several people that used to be gay, but they became straight as they got older by trying not to be.”

I could only stare, totally dumbstruck, for a few moments. I was still trying to comprehend the amount of stupid that just left her mouth. I was pretty sure I understood how her “friends” could just stop being gay. 

_ “You’re sure you can’t just take him? He’s eighteen in less than two years.” _

_ “No way. His parents might have been okay with him liking other boys, but my wife and I are good, God-fearing people, and we aren’t going to accept that kind of behavior in our household.” _

Don’t be gay.

“You’re a Trump supporter, aren’t you?”

She squinted suspiciously. “Yeah.” 

“Right,” I replied in a voice filled with as much venom as I could muster. Of course they were Trump supporters, fucking bigots. “I’ll get right on  _ changing the way my body reacts to other people  _ as soon as you and your brother carve your eyes out with this.” I held up a spoon from the silverware set on my table. 

Her eyes widened, and they guy spluttered. “He isn’t my brother!” She looked appalled. “He’s my boyfriend!”

I didn’t a double take. They looked so similar still. It was unnerving. I was willing to bet ten bucks they were cousins or some sick shit like that. “Yikes,” I muttered and set down the spoon. 

“God, you’re so stupid! Are all of you like this? Or are you only good for having your butts ripped up?”

I heard a little gasp from Armin, and when I looked over, he was red-cheeked and wide-eyed. What she’d said had obviously affected him somehow, and that was all it took.

“Alright, listen here, you little cunt.” She looked totally outraged, and I was about to say some other, way more colorful words when her “boyfriend” stood up and got between us. 

“Calm down, man. There’s no need to get like that--back off.” His chest was up to mine.

“Get out of my face, asshole,” I all but growled. I hated to even think it, but his cologne smelled really nice on him. Like really good. Honestly, he smelled like somebody I wouldn’t have minded having sex with cause damn.  _ No, Eren. It’s just the anger that’s making you like this. _ “Maybe you should teach her some manners, hm?”

“She’s old enough to be her own person, shorty.” Very quietly, so nobody else could hear, he said, “I don’t agree with her, but I can’t change what she thinks--she’s quite stubborn and thick-skulled--so just drop it, Eren.”

I was about to say something back to him when I realized he’d used my name. I mean, sure he could’ve just been using my name because Armin said it, but he said it like he knew me, and that threw me off. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. He stepped back and practically pulled that asshole along behind him out of the cafe as he called apologies to the staff while the chick was yelling at him to let her go.

“Eren?” Armin asked tentatively after a few moments. “C-Can we go?”

I looked at him. “Yeah.” In a daze, I grabbed my jacket off the chair, and we left the cafe. “Sorry,” I mumbled after several tense moments of walking.

He let out a breath slowly, and I could tell he was choosing his words wisely. “Eren, I’m kind of glad that you stood up for me and yourself, but I don’t like the way you chose to do it.” I met his blue, blue, blue eyes. “There are better ways to handle things than to call people mean names.

I hung my head. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. My temper usually gets the best of me, and I just can’t stop it.”

“I understand that. Just promise you’ll stop and think for a few moments before you do anything next time, okay?”

I glanced up again. “Next time? You’ll go out with me again? I didn’t totally mess this up?”

“I’ll have to think about it, but yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ll go out with you again as long as you promise me you won’t do  _ that _ again.” He gestured to the building that was slowly getting smaller behind us. “I don’t want to be with somebody who is extremely impulsive and doesn’t use their head. I’m not trying to change who you are, but I just want you to know what I’m looking for.” He stopped walking to look right at me. “Okay?”

I bit my lip and nodded. “Okay. I’ll try not to be so impulsive.”

He looked at me for a moment and started walking again. “Thank you.”

It was quiet for another several moments. “I understand if you want to go home or something. I mean, I  _ did _ mess this up between being late and calling that bitch a cunt.”

Armin coughed suddenly as if he couldn’t believe I’d just said it again. “Eren!” I just laughed loudly. Apparently, it was contagious because soon he was smiling and shaking his head. 

I cleared my throat and looked at him again. “But, no, seriously. I’m sorry if I messed anything up. Maybe we can, like, I dunno, redo this sometime?”

It was obvious he was definitely considering it--especially because I was shooting him a really hopeful, pleading face. “Alright, alright, fine,” he conceded. I fist pumped happily. “Just make sure you’re on time,” he added with a grin.

* * *

I hummed a tune to myself as I made my way up the stairs in the apartment building. Armin and I set up a time and date for Date One, Take Two. I waited with him while one of his friends came and picked him up--they offered me a ride home too, but I turned them down--before taking the long way home through a park and just enjoying the autumn day for awhile. 

It was when I was halfway up the stairs when I remembered the good-smelling guy from the cafe. For the life of me, I couldn’t  remember why he was somewhat familiar. I could’ve sworn I’d smelled somebody like that before. I wasn’t crazy either. Smell was a good way to pull up memories from the deep recesses of your brain. That and music too. 

With a shake of my head, I abandoned trying to dredge up whatever memories my brain was trying to pull up and went inside. 

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Like Cafe Dude, it smelled good, but this was different. I knew it was getting closer to Thanksgiving, but I forgot that it was actually fall since the weather had been a bit colder than normal. The apartment smelled like pumpkin and cinnamon and  _ autumn. _

I noticed a candle sitting on the counter, and I smiled to myself because Jean has always been a slut for candles. 

_ “Jean, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked. _

_ He looked up innocently from the three small candles he’d set in our shopping cart. One was vanilla cupcake, the second was cinnamon spice, and the third was pumpkin marshmallow. “What?” _

_ “Why do you have those?” _

_ He crossed his arms. “I like candles, and my parents didn’t. I’m a grown ass man, and I’ll pay for them myself.” _

_ “You aren’t lighting those in the house,” I warned. _

_ “Listen here, squirt. I pay for part of the rent, so I’m lighting these damn candles even if I have to throw you out a window.” He glared at me fiercely. We hadn’t been living together for much more than a year. _

_ “Alright, fine, but if the house burns down,  _ you _ pay for it.” _

_ He grinned triumphantly and literally trotted away to get eggs. _

I shook my head fondly at the memory. Toeing my shoes off, I went further into the apartment and flopped on the couch. One of the windows was open, and the heat was off, so it was chilly, but God it was wonderful. I snagged one of the blankets from the basket and bundled up. 

I didn’t know how long I just laid there and stared out the window--which displayed the other side of the street--when Jean and Ymir came in carrying grocery bags. 

“Oh no, your highness, don’t bother to get up and help.” Jean grunted as he set down a whole armful of bags.

With a shrug, I settled back down on the couch again. “Whatever you say, peasant.”

“How’d it go?” Ymir asked.

“How’d what go?” Jean looked at her.

“Well, I called some chick a cunt,” I replied. “And I was late.”

“Ohhh the date,” Jean said to himself.

Ymir shrugged. “Eh, it could’ve gone better, but hey, if he can’t handle you, you both should find somebody else.”

“That’s true, I guess.” I stood and folded the blanket. “What all did you get?” I went up to the counter and leaned my palms against the edge. 

Jean poked through some of the bags. “Lunch meat, canned vegetables, yogurt, peanut butter, and some other things.” He started taking things out of the bags and setting them on the counter. “Are you going to just stand there and stare, or are you going to help?”

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, bossy.” 

“Yep.” 

Ymir pulled out a can of Spaghetti-Os and shoved it at Jean. “Eat these right now.”

“Ymir, I’m fine.”

“I don’t give a shit. You’re going to gain weight back. Eat the fucking processed grains and shut up.”

Jean rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest further. He just popped the ginormous ass tab up and peeled back the top of the can before he grabbed a fork and sat on the counter. 

I eyed him then looked to Ymir. “Man, I shoulda had you do that weeks ago.”

She snorted. “I yelled at him in the middle of the store until he was embarrassed enough to just grab stuff he liked and would eat.” Jean muttered something into the can that sounded like  _ glass roll _ . “It took a whole twenty minutes too.”

“Alright then.” I started putting stuff away. 

“T’ay i’ c’nin’ da’.”

“What was that?” Ymir asked in an obnoxious way that sounded like her mouth was full of food. 

Jean swallowed. “Today is cleaning day.”

I groaned loudly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Um no. We haven’t cleaned in like a month, and the shower is looking gross.”

“Fine, I’ll clean the windows and do the dishes.”

Ymir flipped me off. “Jerk. That’s the easy stuff.” I smirked at her. “Fine, I’ll do the laundry and vacuum.”

Jean nodded. “I’ll clean the kitchen and bathroom.”

I grabbed a yogurt and popped the seal off. “I’ll start in like twenty minutes.”

He finished up his can and threw it in the trash. “Okay. Also, the last one done has to buy Chinese takeout tonight.”

Ymir and I both looked up at him. Chinese was, like, literally our favorite, and we could pack away a ton of it. She jumped up for the vacuum, and I finished my yogurt in record time. There was no way I was paying for this.

* * *

“That’ll be $31.26.”

I dug in my wallet and forked over some money to the cashier. Jean was the first done--no surprise--and somehow Ymir got all the laundry done before I was done with the dishes. 

They gave me my change back, and I slipped the bills back in my wallet. The extra change I put in the tip jar. Their smile was a slight bit kinder when they handed me the big brown bag filled with steaming hot goodness. “Have a good night.”

I nodded and smiled a bit. It wasn’t their fault the windows were really dirty. “Thanks, you too.”

The door  _ dinged! _ as I stepped out into the air. Jean was parked right on the curb with Ymir in the front seat. They had some bass-heavy song on, and I could hear them all but yelling along to the music. Through closed windows, might I add. For being a bunch of singers, they really did suck at it sometimes. 

I got in the backseat and leaned forward to crank the music way down. “Onward, chauffeur.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Ymir complained. 

“Oh, boo hoo. You got free food, so shut up.”

Jean laughed. “Sounds like  _ somebody _ is a little bitter.”

I rolled my eyes. “‘M not bitter. I got gypped.”

Ymir scoffed. “Whatever. You were the first one to choose what you wanted to do. You have no excuses.”

“I had a yogurt I was trying to finish, duh.”

Jean just shook his head as Ymir and I continued to bicker all the way home. When he pulled up into his parking spot, I jumped out and ran up the stairs to keep the two vultures away from the food. I about went into cardiac arrest once I got to the top, and my legs were screaming, but it was so worth it. Especially when I saw the look on Ymir’s face when I slammed the door.

Thankfully, she didn’t skin me alive. 

The three of us settled in the kitchen and living room with our boxes of Chinese. Ymir was using chopsticks because she was convinced it was part of the experience. Jean was using a fork from his place at the kitchen counter, and I was switching from chopsticks for big pieces to a spoon for rice. 

Our evening was peaceful and surprisingly quiet. Ymir was the first to start nodding off. We were watching  _ McLintock! _ when her head started to droop and jerk back up again. I rolled my eyes and pretended to be tired and stuff, so her pride wouldn’t get in the way of her need for sleep. Thankfully, she took the bait and went to bed. It was then just me and Jean for a few moments.

We looked at one another. I cleared my throat. “Thank you,” I finally said.

“For what?”

“For not making things harder than they already are, I guess. I really did use to be able to see a future with you, y’know? But things just…”

He nodded a bit. “Yeah, I know. They passed on by before we could catch it.” He sounded tired.

I nodded back and briefly touched his arm. “Do try and get some sleep, okay?”

“I will. Goodnight, Eren.”

“Goodnight, Jean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may know, Bastille's new album "Wild World" came out within the last month, and because of that, the song for this chapter is "The Driver". For those of you that might've been disappointed with the date, there will be another, better one. I couldn't think of anything to do, so I did the cliche "gay person experiencing homophobic people" thing. I'm sorryyyyyyy. I'll definitely try to start update monthly or bi monthly. Thank you again for reading ily!!!


	12. Ymir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir finds out who her relative is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop! Here's the chapter after like a month of not getting anywhere. Comments are always welcomed!! ^.^ The song for this chapter is "Flaws" by Bastille.

I was bored out of my mind.

“There’s nothing to do,” I told the ceiling for the upteenth time. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t answer me back. I lifted my head up and stood up from the couch to pace. The only noise was coming from Jean’s candle as it crackled merrily from its perch on the countertop--plus the sounds of cars, idle chattering, and wind from outside the window, but that didn’t count.

I was stuck at home while Eren went out and “enjoyed the wonderful day” or some shit like that, and Jean went to hit some balls at a batting cage, I guess. In all fairness, it was sunny and warmer than it was normally, but I wasn’t an outdoorsy person. Especially not after my father took me camping. I woke up in the middle of the night covered in mosquito bites, and I swore there were bugs crawling all over me.

Yep. I wasn’t a happy camper.

I somehow wandered into my room, and out of sheer boredom, I started folding up scattered clothes, making my bed, and putting things back where they’re supposed to go. It was when I went to start tidying up my dresser that I noticed the letter from Mr. Zacharias.

Picking it up, I read it again. I still didn’t have any clue as to who would be trying to contact me. Chances are, it was just some big joke being played by some assholes that hated me--no surprise there, to be honest. Though, it did seem like a lot of work just to make me feel like an idiot.

I picked up my laptop and flopped onto my bed to check my email. Honestly, I hadn’t checked it since I’d sent him the reply. Maybe it was because I was afraid of what I would find out. Or maybe I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

There were thirteen junk emails which I quickly sorted through followed by one from a Mr. Mike Zacharias. It was strangely anticlimactic, finding the email. It was just reading an email address and the title “Hello from Zacharias Investigating Firm”.

I clicked on the email and read through it.

_Dear Ms. Gray,_

_Thank you for your response. I won’t beat around the bush with a lengthy email and waste your time._

Man, I already liked this guy.

_My client wishes to meet up with you for an hour or two at least once to get to know you, and I’ve agreed to help arrange this. Just as I’ve kept their identity a secret from you, they’ve wished that I do the same for them as it’s only fair. The only thing they know about you is that you are a female relative._

_They’ve suggested a luncheon since it’s in public. Let me know if you’re willing to do this, and we can arrange a time and date._

_Sincerely,_

_Mike Zacharias_

Just like before, I read the email several times and debated. Nobody I knew used the word “luncheon”, but other than that, they seemed okay. I still wished I knew _something_ about them. Were they the same age? Older? Younger? How did they know about me when I never knew I had an unknown relative? The whole thing was killing me with the not knowing.

So it was no surprise that I sent a reply agreeing to meet up with “his client”.

What was surprising to me, however, was how soon I got a reply. It was two hours later when another email from him showed up (I totally wasn’t refreshing the browser every two seconds). In that same businesslike way, he asked if I would be okay with meeting up this Thursday--what even was today, like, Monday?--at noon at a Starbucks that happened to be close by. I responded by saying that’d be okay. And that was it.

I guess I was expecting it to be a bit more exciting than that, but it really didn’t get much more exciting than a typo on a screen. And that was because of me, not him.

Again, I was bored, but this time I was also nervous. I really hoped I didn’t fuck this up. I didn’t want the only “family” I had to totally reject me.

Twenty minutes and over six blankets wrapped around me later, Eren came in. “Ymir, I’m--what are you doing?”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, trying to break free. God, how did I even get all these around me in the first place?

He grinned wide and pulled out his phone.

“No. Eren. Eren, no. Please don’t.”

And he took the fucking picture.

“You dick!”

“It’s just good business!”

I stuck my tongue out at him for the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ reference. “That isn’t _good business_ , it’s fucking shady business. I thought you were above blackmail.”

He pointed at me. “Not when it comes to you, I’m not.”

I wiggled around to try and get out and finally freed an arm. “You know what I think?” I started sliding myself out of the blankets. “I think you’re penis is small. So small, in fact, that you have to be a huge fucking dick to make up for it.” I kicked my legs out.

“Harsh, but you know I’m well hung, sweetheart.”

Discarding the last of the blankets, I stood up and tied my hair back, so it was out of my eyes. “You won’t be once I kick your balls so hard your dentist will be concerned.”

He shrugged with an annoying ass smirk and opened the fridge. “Whatever. What would you like for dinner?”

I was caught between wanting to keep fighting with him since I’d been cooped up all day, and I still had a good twenty minutes of arguing left in me and wanting to eat because I’d been too lazy to make something today for myself. _Sarcasm,_ I decided.

I nudged him quite forcefully out of my way, and he raised an eyebrow at me. Turning the oven on to some random temperature, I opened the door and stuck my butt inside it as far as I could. He looked bewildered and concerned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m heating up dinner. Duh.”

“Wow. You’re gonna be a real trophy wife someday.” He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and started making coffee.

“Damn straight.” I stood up again and shut the oven off. I shouldn’t have done that because now my muscles burned from being bent over--I don’t work out; shut up--but it was worth it.

He merely rolled his eyes and sat at the counter. “Whatever.”

“Hey, Eren.”

“Hey, Ymir,” he repeated in a teasing tone.

I gave him a look like shut up. “Have you ever heard of Mike Zacharias?” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the countertop.

He twirled his still-empty mug around thoughtfully and hummed. “Name rings a bell. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I got an email from him--he’s a private detective.”

“Ohhh. Now I remember who that is. I’ve read about him in the paper.”

I nodded. “Yeah. He--wait. You read the paper?” I grinned. “Dude, you’re so old. Who even does that anymore?” A grotesque snorting sound came out of my nose when I laughed. “Do you, like, go to cafes and read the paper with your morning latte? Are you gonna get hipster glasses?”

He rolled his eyes. “I like knowing what’s going on. Anyway…” He waved his hands in the universal _get on with it_ motion.

“Right. Anyway, I got an email from him about some client looking for me.”

He squinted suspiciously. “Please, tell me you didn’t murder somebody.”

“Thanks.”

“No, really.”

“Of course I didn’t murder somebody, dumbass. His client says their a family member, but neither of us knows anything about each other.”

He nodded slowly and got up to fill his mug up. I took his spot on the barstool, and he leaned against the counter next to the coffee pot. “Are you going to meet this client?”

“Yeah, on Thursday.”

“Would you like me to go with you? I could watch from a distance and make sure nothing happens to you.” There was a crease between eyebrows from concern.

“Aw, you _do_ care.” The joke was instantaneous since I still had issues accepting any sort of affection, even if that affection was Eren acting like the older brother I never had. Growing up as an only child certainly did have its benefits such as getting as much attention as I needed--or, frankly, wanted--but it did get lonely when the other kids had stuff to do on a weekend and I was at home alone since Dad was at work. Though, I wouldn’t want to have to worry about being separated from a sibling while in the system.

“Would you?” His face was serious but still somehow open. “I won’t come if you don’t want me to.”

“Uh, yeah. I think that’d be a smart thing--if you did come.” Oh, God. Why was I so awkward? It was literally just a yes or no answer. He was just being nice. I should really stop reading so much into things.

Nodding, he took another drink and made a face. “God, how does Jean drink this shit straight up?” He set his mug down and dug in the fridge for the pumpkin spice flavored creamer--he’s the original common white girl, I’m telling you, man--and filled the rest of his mug up to the brim. “Perfect.”

Shaking my head, I stood up. My throat was still a bit tight from the emotions I didn’t need to be feeling, so I cleared it surreptitiously. “You’re so mainstream.”

“Don’t be jealous,” he teased.

“Of what? Your love affair with flavored coffee?” I snorted derisively and stood up. “As if.”

He shrugged and carefully took a drink. “Whatever.” Slowly, he made his way to the couch and set his drink on a paper towel on the small table next to the arm of said couch. Jean had a pet peeve about the rings the glasses left, and neither of us liked to listen to him bitch. “You should take a walk or something. It’s really nice.”

“Since when do I ever go outside voluntarily?” Snagging one of the blankets I was using, I dropped onto the couch next to him and put my feet in his lap.

“Right. How silly of me.” Unfazed, he settled his arms on my ankles. “Y’know, you might actually meet some people if you just go look around.”

“Excuse you, but I met somebody like two weeks ago.” My grin was that of a cat who’d gotten the cream. Totally metaphorically.

Eren made a face. “I’d rather not hear about how that went.”

I huffed. “Suit yourself.” I understood why he didn’t want to hear about it, though, since details were always included in the stories of my sexual escapades. Honestly, Jean was better for that. He must’ve been a gossiping teenage girl in a past life; I swear.

“Do you ever think about meeting somebody and staying with them?” Those vivid green eyes of his seemed to be staring past my face as if he could somehow know all of my thoughts. “Like for the long-term. Unless you’re aromantic? Cause that’s okay. I was just wondering.”

I sighed and let my head fall back against the arm of the couch. Of course I’d thought about it before, but there were several things holding me back. One of the more obvious reasons was my inability to stay with any one person for a long time. I was just too… flighty, I guess. I got bored easily. Maybe it was because the only thing I learned about my lovers was their name. Maybe it was because neither of us had ever expected anything other than just one night. Maybe it was because I knew that none of the girls I’d ever been with had been good girlfriend material, or maybe it was because I’d never gotten to know them as actual people with actual lives; they’d just been there for a quick fuck with consent and without complaint.

Another reason would be my background--cliche but true. My mom ditched me as a kid, and my father was put in prison, so to say I had trust issues wasn’t untrue. I probably didn’t realize that I did, but looking back on my life from when I was put in the system, the only friends I’d made--other than Jean and Eren, obviously--were the kids I had to share a room with.

Combine those reasons with the fact that the people I knew usually weren’t lucky in their relationships, and it was no wonder why I hadn’t actually ever dated anybody before.

“I don’t know. I think I’d be okay with being in a long-term relationship, but I just haven’t met anybody I could be happy with for that long.”

“How would you know? Have you gotten to know any of those girls?”

“Well… no.”

“I see.” His fingers absentmindedly trailed over the inside of my ankle.

I squinted. “You’re judging me.”

“No, I’m not! I’m just thinking you should get to know somebody--not in the biblical way.”

My immediate response was to tell him to shove off, but I squelched it since we were talking candidly, and he was only trying to help somehow in the only way he knew how. “I think you’re right.”

He blinked at me. “I think I need a recorder.”

“What? Why?”

“You _never_ say I’m right.”

“I never do cause you’re never right, stupid.”

“Ouch.”

I nudged his chest with the side of my foot. “Focus. How do I go about meeting somebody I might want to date?”

“Going outside for once would be a good way to start.”

I scoffed. “Dick.”

“Thanks, I try.” He patted my leg.

“I’m being serious,” I whined.

In a fake whiny tone, he replied, “So am I.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I huffed. “I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day.”

“Thank God.” To continue the drama, he actually crossed himself and looked up towards the ceiling.

Eren had better thank his lucky stars that Jean walked in before I could strangle him.

“You’re sweaty,” was the first thing Eren said when he saw Jean.

“I didn’t know that. Thank you _so much_ for telling me,” he replied with an eye roll so lethal I was surprised Eren hadn’t just dropped over dead.

“What’s up?” he asked, obviously more concerned. “Is something wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just--” And with a frustrated noise, Jean stormed to his room.

I looked at Eren. “Uh… what was that about?”

“I don’t know.” He looked back at me. “What could possibly get him that mad? Did you stuff his underwear in the mailbox again?”

“That was only one time!” We’d been having a small war one year the week before and after April Fool’s Day, and it’d gotten so intense.

“Hm.”

“Should I go talk to him? Or do you want to?”

He gazed down the hallway. “It would probably be wise to let you talk to him. Give him some time to cool down first, though.”

“Alright.” Silence for a moment. “Nevermind, I’m not waiting.”

“Wait, Ymi--”

But I didn’t wait for him to protest anymore. I swung my legs off his lap and strode down the hallway to Jean’s room. Before I could think about it too hard, I tapped on the door. “Can I come in?”

There was an achingly long pause before he quietly responded, “Yeah.”

I opened the door. Inside, Jean was lying facedown on his bed with an arm dangling off. “What?”

I had to smother the reflex urge to tell him he looked like shit. “So… what was that just now?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

When I got closer to him, he moved closer to the wall, and I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Well, I would be too if I was out all night and gone early this morning.”

No answer.

“What were you even doing?” Keeping my voice neutral was turning out to be harder than I thought.

There was a pause as if he were deciding how much to tell me. “So you know how I told you I played baseball in high school?”

“Yeah,” I replied, not knowing where this was headed.

“Not to brag, but I was good. Like really good. My batting average was in the mid-thirty percent range, and I was the pitcher for my team. I’ve been playing since I was in third grade, and when my dad… kicked me out, I played only enough to keep my scholarship since I had a full ride.”

None of that made much sense to me, but I knew you had to be pretty good to get a scholarship. _Especially_ if he had a full ride to college.

“I haven’t played since I graduated, and I realized last night that I actually kind of missed it.”

“So why were you so mad when you walked in the door?”

With a groan, he flopped over onto his back. “Baseball was the sport Dad made me play, and even though I still love doing it, I feel like shit for playing because that part of my life was _his_ decision. He’d played in high school but had to stop due to an injury, so he was trying to live through me, I guess. And when I was at the batting cages last night, I started feeling shit I haven’t felt for a long time, and I took it out on the balls.”

“Was that where you were today?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you were a dick to Eren because you were still angry about things that happened between you and your dad?”

“More than things between me and my dad, but basically, yeah.”

“I see.”

There was a pause. “I should go apologize to Eren, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. “God, I know I fucked up when even _you_ tell me I should apologize.”

Deciding to take that as a compliment, I beamed and jumped up. “Yep. When the Queen of Assholes tells you to apologize, you should. So march your skinny butt out there before I whip it, and not in a kinky way.”

“Alright, alright.” He stood up and went into the living room with me following him.

Eren was sitting on the couch in the same place he was when I left, still nursing his coffee. He looked up as we came out. His eyes were still worried, but I could tell he was trying to keep it from showing.

Jean took a deep breath and let most of it out audibly. “I’m sorry for being a dick ten minutes ago. I was upset but not at you, and it was wrong to lash out.” By now, he was wringing his hands and popping all the knuckles on his fingers methodically. For being a psychologist, he really was shitty about being on the giving end of the exchange.

Eren squinted. “What were you doing before you got home?” Thankfully, his voice was curious and not demanding. However, this _was_ Eren we were talking about, so who knew what was going to happen.

“Batting cages.”

He tilted his head. “For real? It’s been over five years.”

“Yeah, well I figure it’s time I start doing other stuff that makes me happy again.”

“You obviously weren’t happy when you walked in that door.”

Jean made a frustrated sound. “Do you accept my apology or not?”

Silence stretched on for what felt like years as Eren took a slow drink of his--probably cold by now--coffee. “Yeah.”

I could see Jean’s shoulders slump with relief. “Okay.”

“But if you do it again…,” Eren warned.

“If I do it again, I’ll come crawling back to you again with another apology that you’ll accept because you know I hate being scrutinized and watched.”

Eren kept his serious face for another two seconds before he grinned like the psychopath he was. “That’s very true.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Praise Jesus hallelujah. You two are still the Dynamic Dick Duo.”

Jean glared. “Shut the fuck up, Ymir.”

“Be lucky I’m not making you two hug it out like kindergarteners.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever my ass.”

Before the situation could escalate, Eren raised his hands. “Ladies, please.”

I glared at him, and before Jean could even open his mouth, I ground out, “I. Am. No. Lady.”

Judging by the way he stood up and put Jean between us, my look was threatening enough. And so were my teeth against his arm when I finally caught the quick bastard.

* * *

I woke up on Thursday morning at five A.M. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was wired--as if I’d already had six shots of espresso.

 _What was I going to wear? What should I say? Would they like me? Should I go early? What if I’m late? What if_ they’re _late? Do I already know this person? What if they see me from a distance and flake out? How old were they? What was their favorite color?_

I’m not stressing at all.

As I rifle through the clothes I have, I realize they’re all dark. Not that it’s a bad thing. I mean, what can I say? Black makes me happy. Eventually, I settle for a red, plaid, flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black tank top, and light skinny jeans--the only pair I have without a fuck ton of rips in them.

“You look emo today,” Eren comments. I swear to God, he’s the only person that can be anywhere near--dare I say--chipper at eight in the morning.

“Good. I feel angsty every single fucking day anyway.”

He hummed in agreement.

I slumped down into a chair. “I don’t think I can do this.”

The surprised look on his face would’ve been funny if I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up. “You can’t just back out. You’ve been waiting now for what? Two weeks? Three?”

“Yeah, yeah. But what if they don’t like me?” I bit my lip, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable. Memories rose to the surface of foster families that didn’t want me due to the facade I always put up. They thought I wouldn’t be able to get along with any of the other kids in their house. They thought I’d be a trouble maker. They thought I’d be some sort of monster.

I didn’t think my heart could handle it if this other random relative thought I was a shitty person too.

Eren moved, so he was by my side. I looked up at him miserably. “Ymir. If they don’t like you, then fuck them because they don’t know you yet. If they aren’t going to spend the time to get to know you, that means they weren’t worth getting to know, and you’re better off without them.”

I nodded a little bit. “Alright.”

He glanced nervously down the hall. “And I may have gotten you something to take off the edge.”

I squinted at him suspiciously. “What?”

From his pocket, he produced one of those tiny bottles of liquor.

My eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck, bro? You were the one who literally grilled me about drinking last month!” I hissed.

“I know, I know. But I figured you’d be stressing as you are now, and one drink won’t hurt you since you’re certainly not a lightweight.” He set the bottle on the counter in front of me. “You don’t have to drink it, but you can if you want to, and we don’t have to tell Jean.”

Sunlight from the rising sun caught the green bottle, light winking in my eyes. Ironically, it was a Jagermeister. I was stuck between just taking a swig or two to calm my practically-shot nerves and doing what I should do--throw it out. However, I wasn’t a good person, and I didn’t always do what was right.

I screwed the top off, drained it, then held it out towards Eren. “There. Now get it out of here before Jean comes out.”

Dutifully, he took it and buried it in the trash. “Feel better?” he inquired as he came to lean against the counter again.

“Kinda.” Only time would be able to tell.

“Good.” He slid a Mcdonald's breakfast sandwich of some kind over to me. “Eat this.”

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled.

“Trust me. You’ll feel better when you do.” His eyes were open and caring.

“Fine. Jesus.” It was still warm when I picked it up. I took my time with unwrapping it, but I couldn’t taste it--that’s how lost in thought I was.

Time was a formidable enemy that morning. It dragged and dragged, and then it was going too fast, and I was unable to keep up. I felt like I was in a funhouse. My perception of things were warped, and I had no way of knowing what the right view was.

As we walked to the shop--I was too stubborn to ask Jean if he’d drop us off--I received an email from Mike.

_Just a short reminder of the appointment you set up earlier this week. Attached is a photo of me, so you know who to look for once you arrive._

_Sincerely,_

_Mike Zacharias_

I tapped on the attached photo. The man I saw wasn’t bad looking. His hair was a bit long and parted down the middle. The top part was blonder than the underside in a way that suggested he was out in the sun quite a bit. He didn’t seem like he smiled much.

“Who’s that?” Eren craned his head to get a look.

I handed him my phone. “This is the private detective.”

“Hm. Not unattractive. Looks like he has a stick up his ass, though.” He handed my phone back, and I pocketed it.

“He’s very formal in his emails.”

“I see.”

We chatted about trivial things until we made it to the coffee shop. We were about ten minutes early, but Mike was already sitting at a table inside by a window. Currently, he was typing away on his laptop. He didn’t look up when we walked in.

Eren nudged my shoulder. “Have a drink on me. What do you want?”

I scanned the menu. Some of the words were a major blur. What was the difference between a latte and a mocha anyway? Did almond milk actually make it taste that much different?

Could reading a menu make you lose brain cells?

“Hello, welcome to Starbucks. May I take your order?” came the pleasant voice once we reached the front of the line. Eren ordered first--a white chocolate mocha with raspberry in it. I still didn’t know what I wanted, so I jumped at the first option that looked decent.

“Hi, can I have a peppermint mocha, please?” I finally took my eyes off the menu and looked at the barista. Blinking hard, I did a double take. It was the cute, little blonde from after the concert. Her name tag boasted **HISTORIA**.

She finished writing my order on the cup, and pointedly ignored me. “Will that be all?”

I could tell Eren was trying to smother a grin at my totally baffled face. “Yeah.” He handed her a ten. When she returned the change, he dropped it in the tip jar. “Thank you. Come on, Ymir.” Gently, he steered me away.

“D-did you see--?”

“Yes, I did. Take a breather, kiddo.”

I took a deep breath and opted to keep my mouth firmly shut.

Shortly after this exchange, our drinks were called up. Eren grabbed his and handed me mine. “I’m gonna go sit with him.” I gestured behind me with my thumb.

He nodded. “I’ll be right over here if you need me.” He gave me an encouraging pat on my arm.

I nodded. “Thanks.” _I’m gonna puke._ Once he sat down, I made my way over to sit with Mike. He looked up at me mildly when I sat down

“Good evening, Miss Gray.”

“You can just call me Ymir.” I held my hand out to shake. Thankfully, he took it and didn’t leave me hanging. His hand was huge compared to mine, and was his sniffing the air?

No. It must be my imagination.

He cleared his throat. “He will be here short--ah, there he is.”

I clenched my eyes closed. _Oh God, oh God, oh God. I can’t look. I can’t look…_

I thought I heard Eren gasp, but that too must’ve just been my imagination.

Footsteps drew closer to the table, and then I knew I heard a gasp for real. “Ymir?” I opened my eyes and looked up at Armin’s confused, blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Mike looked between the two of us for a moment. “Armin, meet your sister, Ymir.”

I about fucking shit myself. “Wh-what?”

Armin answered before the sniffing giant could. “M-my mom was a victim of a… a rape that resulted in my conception.” His voice was clinical. He obviously didn’t like talking about it. “I hired Mike to find out who the guy was, and when he told me the rapist had a living relative, I wanted to meet them--you. I just didn’t know that it was _you._ ”

Oh my god.

My father got that girl pregnant.

She kept the baby, and that baby was Armin.

Armin was my brother--or half brother, at least.

 _My father is Armin’s father,_ was the last thing I remember thinking before I passed out over top of the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil laughter*


	13. Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just one more hit and then we're through  
> Cause you could never love me back  
> Cut every tie I have to you  
> Cause your love's a fuckin' drag  
> But I need it so bad  
> Your love's a fuckin' drag  
> But I need it so bad
> 
> You're worse than nicotine"
> 
> "Nicotine" by Panic! At the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I'm actually on time with this? My goal was 5,000 words by the 26, and look who has that done and more (5,522 words to be exact and 10 minutes before midnight to be exact)??? FUCK YEAH.
> 
> Ha ha anyway... Yes, the song for this one is "Nicotine" by Panic! At the Disco, and it's apparent why once you're six and a half pages into the chapter. I deliberately made it to fit "Nicotine" because I'm trying to work with metaphors more (this may or may not have anything with wanting my story to be as good as Droplets even though that'll never happen). I considered making it "Car Radio" by twenty one pilots, but I ended up changing it as I was writing it because I figured I could find a better use for the song, and hey, the cigarette metaphor worked just fine in here.
> 
> Apologies if some of it seems jumbled. I'm going through one of those weeks--months, more like--where my brain won't let me think clearly at times as if my thoughts are going through a blender then molasses before it actually reaches me, ugh.
> 
> Oh! I actually had something important to say. So I went back to Chapter 5 with Eren, and it said that Jean had half his tuition paid for, but I believe in the last chapter I said something about him getting a full ride to college. For those of you that might've caught the difference, I'm sorry! Honestly, I can't remember what happens in my stories myself, yikes. For simplicity, we'll say he did, in fact, get a full ride scholarship for baseball, and he was a fuckin' good player.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter, kiddos!!!
> 
> P.S. Over 1,000 reads?!?!?!?! I love you all omg.

“Eren. Eren! Slow down; I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” I pressed the phone closer to my ear. He’d called me while I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. Normally, I’d only be able to eat half of it, but I missed breakfast from sleeping in so much, so it would be a whole sandwich for me. Hopefully.

His frustrated sigh was audible over the line. “I _said_ that you need to come down here because Armin is Ymir’s missing relative.”

Armin. The name sounded familiar in the way that you somehow knew secrets nobody told you. Snatches through thin walls and cracked-open doors. I probably should know the name, but I kept coming up with blanks.

I opened a bag of chips and started putting them on my sandwich--on the side with the peanut butter. “How are they related?” I carefully placed the side with the jelly on top of the side with the peanut butter and chips then squished it down just enough, so there wouldn’t be any surprise squirts of jelly onto my shirt. When I took a bite, it tasted like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich--obviously--but it had a nice--dare I say aesthetically pleasing--crunch to it.

He faltered. “You should probably ask her that yourself.”

The tone and hesitation made me pause after I swallowed the first bite. “Is she okay?”

“Um.” Pause. “I mean, she’s relatively okay now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. She kinda passed out.”

 _Sorry, sandwich. You’ll have to wait._ “What do you mean she _kind of passed out._ Either she did or she didn’t.” My tone jumped from wary and unsure to biting.

“She did pass out--but only for, like, fifteen seconds!”

At that moment, I was reminded of the meme: *inhales* bOi!

“Why didn’t you _start out by telling me she fainted_?” I didn’t even wait for him to answer before I hurried to my room in search of proper clothes. Trost University sweatpants from my college days definitely weren’t going to cut it.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to worry you, I guess.”

“So you called me to tell me how it was going, yet you didn’t want to worry me about Ymir being stressed?” I cradled the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I shuffled through my dresser for a pair of jeans.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

My breath puffed out of my lips in the form of an exasperated sigh. I ran a hand through my hair. “I’ll be there soon. Text me the address.” And I hung up before he could say anything else to raise my blood pressure. God, he could be so dense sometimes.

Moments later, my phone buzzed with a text from Eren containing the address. I kept my shirt on--the matching Trost U shirt because even my pajamas had to match--and grabbed a random hooded sweatshirt from The Chair before wiggling into my pants and leaving the apartment.

It took just over 10 minutes for me to get there. I would’ve been there sooner, but it turned out that the street it was on was a one-way street that led away from it, so I had to go around the block. When I got inside, I saw Ymir and Eren sitting at a back table with a huge guy even bigger than me and a little guy about Eren’s size. Both of them were varying degrees of blond--shit, even the barista was a little blonde lady. I couldn’t tell which one was the sibling since neither of them actually looked like Ymir at all.

Ymir looked up at me when I strode over. She _was_ a bit pale and looked frazzled but otherwise fine. “Oh thank the lord. Jean! Get Eren to leave me the fuck alone.”

The small blond looked up at me as I approached and stepped back to let me get closer. “You _did_ faint. He has a right to fuss.”

“Thank you!” Eren exclaimed.

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. “Not for as long as you have. Quit. Touching. Me.”

I swatted at Eren’s hands before Ymir could. “Go sit somewhere else for a bit. Take a breather before there’s a domestic.”

Ymir’s eyes flicked to mine--they’re full of relief for that brief moment--before they went back to glaring at Eren.

Eren finally sighed and relented. “Fine, fine.” He backed up and made his way to a table on the other side of the cafe. The blond kid looked between me, Ymir, and Eren, and he just looked fuckin’ lost.

“Can everybody just _get lost_ for ten minutes?” I implored, eyebrows raised at every person at the table bar Ymir.

The older-looking blond guy politely nodded and stood. Internally, I gulped cause _he’s really fucking tall and buff, and I hope I haven’t just offended a deity._ He looked down his nose at me and gives the hint of a smile. For what, I had no idea. “Please excuse me.” I stepped to the side, so he could get by.

I sat where he was just sitting, and the small blond scurried away to join Eren at his table. I placed my arms on the table and look right at Ymir. “Talk.”

She scowled. “About what?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a question that really needs answering? You just met your long-lost relative. You passed out. And the girl behind the counter looks like the doppelganger of the chick that wouldn’t give you the time of day after our concert that one night.”

Her brown eyes flicked over my shoulder for the fraction of a second, but I saw it. She narrowed them at me. “Gee, thanks for reminding me,” she snapped.

I put my hands up in the air in surrender. “Alright, Ymir. If you think you don’t need to talk about anything at all…” I made to get up.

“J-Jean, wait.” I felt a hand on top of mine from where it was on the table as I used it to push myself up. When I looked at her, she seemed small and meek, and that scared me to a certain degree. Ymir was a strong-headed, fearless person if I ever met one. I found her on the _street corner_ for God’s sake. From day one she’s only given me sass and a brash attitude, and seeing her looking unsure caused a small weight to push down on my sternum.

Sitting back down, I took her hand in both of mine. Normally, she would’ve pulled away with a mock-disgusted noise about not wanting to get cooties like the five-year-old she is. So it was testament to how not okay she was when she squeezed my fingers in a white-knuckle grip. I gave her a couple moments to collect her thoughts before I asked her anything.

“You ready to talk now?” My voice was more gentle as I took on the role of a counselor with their patient--the way I was taught for years in college.

Releasing a shaky breath, she nodded.

I rubbed my thumbs over the knuckles on her hand. “Who are the two people?” Obviously, I already knew that one of them was her brother, but it would probably be better for her to tell me all of it herself.

“The shorter one is Armin, and he’s my brother.” A flicker of pain from memories she obviously didn’t want dredged up passed over her in the form of a crease between her eyebrows.

“How?”

“You remember how I ended up in the system, right?”

“Of course.” Her dad apparently had gotten arrested for pedophilia, and there were no other relatives around to take care of her.

“Well, I--he… It’s more complicated than that now. When he… assaulted that girl--my friend--he got her pregnant.” The crease between her brows deepened. “I never knew that.”

Can’t say it isn’t obvious now why she passed out. I probably would too if I found out my father was a straight up rapist. “You know none of this is your fault, right?” I squeezed her hand. “You aren’t your father, and his actions don’t reflect upon you as a person. _You are not your father_.”

She swallowed thickly and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “I know that. Logically, I know that, but what would’ve happened if I hadn’t brought her home? I mean, I know that’s not only pointless to say, but Armin existed because of it, and with him being Eren’s boyfriend and whatnot.”

I could say I was totally blindsided, but I should’ve seen that coming. His name _was_ a secret of sorts, one I _had_ heard through cracked-open doors and through thin walls. Nobody had told me his name outright--at least not to my recollection--but I _had_ heard his name during quiet conversations on the phone when I knew Eren couldn’t sleep due to the insomnia that plagued him sometimes.

Come to think of it, I think I saw him at our concert towards the end one night. The same night Eren stayed behind for something, _and_ the same night Ymir got turned down by the other blonde--the one behind the counter.

Too many coincidences were piling up at one time, and I’ve always been a cynical man. I could never really wrap my mind around chance meetings between people just to see them again a week later in a random cafe. I found it hard to believe that one of these people just so happened to be the brother to one of my best friends and the… partner? to the other. There was just no fucking way.

Holy shit, this world was too small for somebody like me.

“Wait, that came out wrong. Armin is a person on his own, and just because he’s hooking up with Eren doesn’t mean he’s any more or less of a person,” Ymir amended, already sounding more like herself.

“I--yeah.”

She squinted, and I knew that she knew I’d zoned out for a moment, but thankfully, she didn’t call me out on it. “Right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. A person isn’t defined by who they associate with.” _Way to go, Jean. What a perfect, textbook answer._

With a sigh, she leaned back and rubbed her face. “Does my mental health pass your inspection, doctor?” The tone of her voice seemed closer to normal, and her freckles didn’t look like they were jumping off her skin anymore.

I rolled my eyes. “If you can be a sarcastic asshole again then yes.” I moved to stand but paused. “Do you want me to stay here?”

Honestly, I thought she would tell me to leave along with some totally dickish comment, but she actually nodded. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Alright.” I stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

When she nodded, I made my way over to where I’d exiled the rest of the people. Eren was tapping his empty-sounding cup against the table compulsively. His whole body vibrated as he jiggled his knee under the table. The small blond kid--Armin--was standing at the end of the table with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking on his heels. It was obvious he didn’t know what he should be doing. At all.

Sitting across from the table was the buff deity. In contrast to Eren and Armin, he was leaning back in his chair and staring out the window. He could be the poster child for how to stay indifferent to other people’s issues.

Armin noticed me strolling over first. He glanced up at me, and his eyebrows drew together in the middle. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.” I waved a hand. “Just make sure you don’t act like she’s dying when you’re around her, and you’ll be fine.” I shot a pointed look at Eren. He huffed and crossed his arms. Gesturing behind me with my thumb, I looked at Armin. “You can go talk to her if you want.”

The apprehension was clear in the way he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, but he nodded and made his way over to Ymir.

“Scoot,” I told Eren and made a _move over_ gesture. He slid to the side to let me sit next to him. When I sat down, I took his drink and put it to my lips. Unfortunately, I couldn’t smell all that sugary shit before I drank it, so I almost choked. “What the _fuck_ did you put in this, Eren?”

His grin was smug as he took it back. “It’s a white chocolate mocha with raspberry flavoring in it.”

“Why would you punish yourself like that?” I jumped up and pulled my wallet out of my pocket. “Fuck, I gotta drink something else to get that taste out of my mouth.”

I could hear him laughing at me as I went to the counter and ordered a black coffee. Historia was the girl’s name. It kind of unnerved me how alike Armin and Historia looked. Out of all the people in this cafe, I would’ve thought those two were siblings. Never would I have thought that the tall, dark-haired, freckled, brash girl was the sister to the short, blond, pale boy, but hey, that’s genetics for you.

“Oh, _thank you_ , sweetheart,” I told her when she handed me my drink. I held it gingerly and thanked god for the heat it provided to my cold fingers. “

She laughed and looked thoroughly amused. “I’ve been working here for quite some time, and I’m always surprised by people’s reactions to getting coffee.”

I blew into the tiny hole in the lid and cocked my hip against the counter. “I’ve been drinking this ambrosia since middle school, and _I_ can’t get over my reaction.”

This elicited another laugh from her. “Wow, that long?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and tested a small sip to see if it was cool enough. Obviously, twenty seconds wasn’t enough because my tongue was assaulted with the heat _from the surface of the sun._ “Ouch, fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

Her eyebrows drew up in the middle in the form of cordial sympathy.

“You guys must get some major deals on the drinks here, huh?”

“We do, but I don’t drink the coffee.”

Pause. “ _What?_ ”

“It’s true! I really don’t like it. I’m more of a tea person.”

“But you _work in a cafe._ ”

She simply laughed again. “I will say some of their other drinks are good, though.”

“I would hope so since they’re fuckin’ five bucks!”

“Yo, Jean!” Eren interjected from where he was still sitting. “Quit flirting and get over here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.” Then back to Historia, I said, “Have a good day. I’ll see you again sometime?” I surreptitiously glanced to where Ymir was sitting.

“Sure.” She smiled politely, and I was pretty sure I’d just ruined any chances Ymir had with her.

I gave a small wave and went to go sit down again. The god was gone. “Why do you ruin everything?”

He snorted. “Why do you have such high hopes for things? Aren’t you supposed to be cynical?”

I squinted at him. “Why do you ruin everything?”

He just leaned back in his seat and smirked. I was pretty sure he had his ankles crossed under the table. I glanced up to where Ymir was sitting. She was in deep conversation with Armin. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see Armin’s face.

“Before you open your stupid mouth and ruin everything, she’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You totally were.”

“ _Excuuuuuse_ me for caring.” He seemed kind of irritated now. I didn’t take it to heart since most bad reactions in situations like these could be chalked up to fear of what could’ve happened.

“You care too much.”

In my peripheral, I saw him look at me, but I kept my gaze fixed on Ymir, so I wouldn’t have to look into those green eyes I loved so much. “You don’t care enough then.”

I shrugged lightly. “I did care, and look where it got me.” I hated the way my voice sounded brittle. I hated feeling so upset about this still. I hated that I couldn’t let it go. I hated that, logically, I knew it would take time to get over it. I hated waiting.

I was not a patient man, and I wasn’t made for these not-breakups and vulnerable, fragile feelings.

“Jean.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. It’s cool if you’re with other people. I’m not the only person ever, and it was stupid of me to--I don’t know, man--think anything differently since it’s literally been half a decade.”

“Jean, you know I--”

I whipped my gaze to him. “Shut your stupid mouth before I do something you’ll hate me for.” _Before I kiss you or something equally stupid._

He blinked. “I-I…” He shut his trap.

I turned back to Ymir before I could watch him bite both of his lips together like he did whenever he got upset. Before he could fiddle with the edge of his shirt. Before he could do all the other things I knew he’d do. Because if I saw them, it’d break my heart, and I’d feel worse than I already did.

The deity came back into the cafe and sat down across from us, smelling distinctly of cigarettes. He looked between the two of us as if he could somehow smell the tension. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

I stood up and grabbed my drink. “I’ll be right back.” Before Eren could say anything, I stepped outside. The wind was biting, and it cleared my mind of some of the cobwebs. I leaned back against the side of the building and closed my eyes and just took a second to _breathe._

 _You’re okay, Jean. You_ will _get through this. All this is just temporary. You’ll find another person who’ll accept all your sarcasm and general assholishness. He isn’t the only person in the world._

In my head, I knew all of this to be true. In my head, there were endless possibilities as to the people I could meet in _that way_. In my head, I had a really long future ahead of me, and in my head, this was just a minor setback. In my head, I was invincible and untouched.

But in my heart, I was merely a scrawny man, bound and gagged and thrown into the sea where the stormy currents were _ripping me to shreds._ I was being torn between wanting to be around him all the time still and never wanting to see him again.

Eren was a cigarette, and I was somebody trying desperately to stop smoking. I picked one up long ago thinking there was no fucking way I’d get addicted to it, especially since I was already an alcoholic-- _that_ was my addiction. But now, my fingers were shaking with the need to have the nicotinic release--just _one more hit_ , and then I’m done, I promise. Now, it’s desperation, and I can _taste it_ on my lips, and no amount of brushing my teeth or applying chapstick could erase it from my memory. This whole situation was a drag in every sense--time being pulled like taffy, the pull the smoke has on my lungs and brain, and the burden I’ve put on my shoulders because, in the end, a cigarette can’t ever love you back, can it?

Swallowing thickly around the tightness in my throat, I finally opened my eyes again and tested my coffee. It was bearable, so I took a few small sips as I watched the cars pass by. The world was the same as before I came out here. Nothing stopped or slowed or sped up or even thought about me, and I wasn’t sure if I was glad of that or if I resented it.

I stood outside that little cafe in late November early in the afternoon and got my bearings before I went back inside.

Eren and the deity were now sitting with Ymir and Armin. Ymir’s gaze flicked up when the door opened--probably just because the human eye follows movement--and a small line appeared between her brows. I raised my cup to her and forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look as thin as water.

 _I think I’m gonna go,_ I mouthed.

She nodded just enough for me to see but not enough to raise the attention of the others at the table.

_Thank you._

The smallest of smiles appeared on her face, and I remembered again why we got along so well.

I slipped back out through the door and headed to my car. In the front seat, I flexed my fingers over the steering wheel and stared through the windshield. No place came to mind as to where I should go, so I just started driving and hoped my subconscious knew what was good for me.

* * *

I guess I couldn’t say I was surprised when I ended up at the batting cages again. Well, I _was_ surprised because I have no idea how I got there.

The place was still as creepy in the day as it was at night. It seemed like the walls were in need of a magic eraser or something because they were dingy as hell. The floor obviously hadn’t seen a broom in awhile if the dust bunnies along the edge where the floor met the wall were any indication.

I may or may not have fuckin’ _scampered_ through the building to get outside.

Once I got outside, I felt safer--at least there I knew I wasn’t going to end up like the Wicked Witch of the East from the _Wizard of Oz._ The sky was clear enough--only a few clouds drifted lazily by--and the wind had died down since I was at the cafe. As before, there was nobody here. I tentatively approached the batting cages, and in the daylight, I noticed how rusted parts of the fence were. In fact, it looked like whoever the fuck owned this place had actually replaced parts of the fence with some much newer metal.

Reluctantly, I paid the stupid fee to bat--though I didn’t pay for the full thirty hits again; fuck no--and stepped inside.

Like before, it took a few hits to get into the swing of it--no pun intended, but honestly, I should just learn my lesson and start warming up like I was supposed to do--but once I did it, I was hitting them pretty hard considering I hadn’t worked out since I was in high school. With each hit, I felt some of the tension melt out of my limbs. My stance became more relaxed, and my grip on the bat became more natural and less like I was trying to squeeze the life out of it.

I knew I was beating a dead horse here, but I still didn’t know why I’d left the sport. Who even gave a shit that I started doing it because of my father? The activity made me feel _good_ about myself. I remembered when I was ripped--and I use ripped as a relative term because I certainly wasn’t buff, but I had some pretty decent muscles; stop laughing--and how I felt after a workout. My muscles were tired, and I felt like I could do anything--after I took a nap and ate half the food in the kitchen, of course.

It also didn’t hurt that the people on my team were like my second family. Most of them were the same ones from when I was little except for the few that quit and the others that joined periodically. Other than that, it was the same.

There was something satisfying about the crack of the bat as the ball hit it, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day I actually broke my ba--

“Holy shit, that’s amazing!”

I jumped twenty fucking feet in the air and whipped around. Behind me was a dude that straight up looked like Aang from _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ except in his twenties and without the tattoos. His hazel eyes were bright with excitement, and there was a huge grin on his face.

“I’ve never seen anybody hit balls that accurately except for on TV!” he gushed.

“Pardon me, but _who the fuck are you_?”

He laughed loudly, and I jumped again when a ball _whizzed_ by and almost hit my shoulder. “Connie Springer,” he answered proudly while pointing his thumb at himself.

“Hold up a sec.” I held up my bat just in time to catch another ball flying at me. I finished hitting up the rest of the balls I’d paid for--like hell was I letting my money go to waste when I was being gypped for them--before I set the barrel of the bat against the cement and leaned against the tip. “Um, hi.” I crossed my legs at the ankles. “Can I help you?”

“Nah, man. I was just coming to shoot some hoops, and I couldn’t help but see you hitting those balls like a pro.”

My head started getting bigger. “Thanks. I played in high school and college.”

“And you didn’t get picked up?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

“No. I mean, I could’ve but I turned it down--was going through a rough patch, y’know?”

He nodded knowingly. “S’cool, man. Still, I have no idea how you could’ve turned down _that_. Nothing person, but that was stupid.”

 _Pretty easily, actually. From being an alcoholic to being gay and everything in between._ I shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” He rubbed his mostly-bald head. “If only I was that good but at basketball.” I saw the way his gaze strayed longingly to the basketball court.

Surreptitiously, I looked him up and down. I coulda swore basketball players were supposed to extremely tall, but this guy was short--shorter than me, and I was average height. “Yeah?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as doubtful as my thoughts were.

“Yeah.” He sounded wistful. Shaking his head, he turned back to me. “Anyway, do you wanna shoot some hoops? I couldn’t get anybody else to come with me.”

“You sure? I mean, you just met me, and I suck at basketball.” It was actually quite embarrassing how bad I was. You’d think I’d be good since, y’know, the baseball and-- _ahem_ \--other balls, but I was honestly quite shitty at other sports.

“Of course it’s fine. Just don’t steal my ball like some other douchebag did, or I’ll shank you.”

Comforting.

* * *

I wasn’t keeping track of the score, but apparently, Connie was in his head, and he said he won, but fuck, I didn’t need a scorekeeper to tell me that. I made a grand total of three points, and those were on accident. All the other balls I threw were either totally off, or they were tantalizingly close, and I cursed like a sailor each time. Connie laughed his ass off each time.

He actually wasn’t too shabby at basketball--to me, at least; for all I knew, he could be total shit, but I wouldn’t know because I was infinitely worse. While we shot, we had a pretty decent conversation about mundane things, and I found it therapeutic. It was like the universe took pity on me and decided to give me a break.

“ _Fuck me_!” I cursed at the net-lacking hoop as I missed yet another shot.

Connie cackled and snatched the ball up before it could roll away and then executed a layup or whatever with ease. I was insanely jealous of how simple he made it look. I was also jealous of how he looked like he wasn’t at all winded, and he wasn’t sweating, like, _at all_ which was _not_ fair because I had to take my coat off a little while ago.

“How do you do that?”

A shit-eating grin plastered itself across his face. “Trade secret.”

I scoffed. “‘Trade secret’ my fucking ass. Get the fuck outta here.”

This was apparently the _funniest fucking shit he’d heard all goddamned day_ because he doubled over and literally started slapping his knee with laughter, and if looks could kill, he’d at least be paralyzed from the waist down. At least.

“Jesus Christ. I’m done.” I snagged my coat and stalked off.

“Nooooo wait!”

I screwed up my face to look like I was absolutely pissed, but honestly, I was having a lot of fun. His laughter was infectious most of the time, and I hadn’t heard a genuinely mean thing from him yet. Of course, that didn’t really mean anything since I’d only known him for, like, an hour, but still. Huffing, I turned around. “What?”

“Are you leaving?” he asked as he wiped tears from his eyes.

Shrugging, I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I dunno. Probably. I don’t wanna get beat by your bald ass _again_.”

“What a shame,” he snickered.

I squinted mock-angrily. “Goodbye.”

“Wait, can I get your number?”

“What for?”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “To play hoops again, duh.”

Honestly, I almost didn’t hesitate to give him my number and get his number in return. The speed in which I took my phone out was probably too quick to be considered normal, but I was fucking _desperate_ for more friends, and he seemed like a pretty cool guy minus the baldness.

We exchanged numbers, and shook hands--he tried to convince me to do some weird bro thing that _everybody_ should know, but I flat out refused--and I turned to leave.

However, a somewhat familiar, freckled face stopped me.

I found myself smiling at Marco as he glanced over at us. Seeing that I saw him too, he gave a small wave.

“Yo, Marco!” Connie yelled from behind me. “How’d your presentation go?”

Marco cupped his hands around his mouth. “Really good, thank you!” He started making his way over to us. “How have you been?” When he smiled, a dimple appeared on one side, and I noticed how his lips parted the slightest bit as he grinned, causing some teeth to show.

“Pretty swell!” Internally, I cringed at the use of _swell_. Who the fuck says that anymore? I jumped as a hand slapped down on my shoulder. “Played a pretty decent game with this guy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I have a name.” _Fuck, wait. That sounded too shitty. Oh my god. When was it appropriate to act like an asshole?_

Thankfully, he just laughed loudly. “Yeah, yeah. You told me just a little while ago.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “John, right?”

“Jean, actually.”

I blinked and looked at Marco. He shrugged a little and smiled innocently at me with half his mouth.

“Yeah! Sorry, man. I’m bad at remembering names.”

“‘S alright. Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged.

Connie turned to Marco again. “He wasn’t too bad, to be honest.”

I outright fucking spluttered. “Bullshit! I suck!”

He hit my arm. “Nah, man. You just need practice is all.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, Marco! You should see this guy with a baseball bat! He could be a pro, I swear!” He put a hand over his heart.

Marco nodded and smiled again. “Yeah, I’ve seen him before.”

Connie’s eyes got wide. “Whaaaat? For real?”

He laughed. “Yes, for real. He _is_ good.”

I felt my cheeks heat up as he looked at me with a strangely warm gaze--strange simply because I was not used to extreme kindness like this, and my head was silently imploding. “Thanks.”

“Text me when you wanna come shoot with me,” Connie repeated. “Maybe Sasha will come next time. Or oh! Oh!” He started jumping up and down like a little kid. “Can you teach me to hit like that?”

“Only if you teach me how to make a basket.” 

He stuck his hand out, and I shook it. “Deal.”

I pulled away and shoved my hands back into my pocket. “I should really get going. It was nice to see you again, Marco. And it was nice meeting you, Connie.”

Connie looked absolutely delighted. “Yeah, man! And I mean it--give me a call whenever. None of my other friends like to play ball.” He rolled his eyes melodramatically. “They’re so _boring_.”

Marco shot him a mock-offended look, but his eyes were smiling. “Nobody can ever satisfy you, Con.”

He pursed his lips playfully. “Just bring me a bucket of chicken, and I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Um. No.”

“Dammit.”

I laughed internally as I left the complex. Connie seemed like a handful, but I was honestly excited because when was the last time I’d made a new friend? Way too fucking long, that’s how long it’d been.

On the way home, I found a stupid smile on my face for half the time as I thought about Connie’s laugh and Marco’s dimple.

* * *

The next day, I woke up to a text.

**From Old Avatar: Hoops l8r?**

**From Old Avatar: Bring chikin 2**

I rolled my eyes at the absolute lack of grammar and responded.

**To Old Avatar: Sounds good.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! So I managed to slip a little bit of Marco in there at the end. Putting Connie in there was a split-second decision, tbh, but he was actually quite fun to write. I was going to make Marco the person that was there again, but in real life, that probably wouldn't have happened, and I want to make this not totally fake sounding, so Connie it was!
> 
> I love writing things between Jean and Ymir because Ymir is actually a smol bean that must be protected even if she doesn't realize it.
> 
> More build for the Eren and Jean dynamic. Jean is still obviously struggling, and it'll take time--and maybe some plot???--to help him move past this, but I promise, things will get better.
> 
> I have a Tumblr, and I'd love it if you guys would hit me up??? live-love-music1 (Shut up, all the good ones were taken, and this was literally two or three years ago.)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!! 
> 
> xx


	14. Eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wish I'd known how much you loved me  
> I wish I cared enough to know  
> I'm sorry every song's about you...
> 
> It was the fourth of July  
> You and I were   
> You and I were fire, fire, fireworks  
> That went off too soon  
> And I'll miss you in the June gloom too...
> 
> I said I'd never miss you, but I guess you'll never know  
> Where the bridges I have burned never really led home  
> On the fourth of July."
> 
> "Fourth Of July" by Fall Out Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely much later than I planned. I wanted to have it posted by Christmas at first, then New Year's, but that obviously didn't happen. My goal was then to have it done by January the 15th, and I'm only two hours late, so there's that. Things got hectic once December came around. My school went to Hawaii the first week to perform for the 75th anniversary of Pearl Harbor; that was definitely an experience I'll never forget. Then I started working on my first JeanMarco Gift Exchange this year called Warmth. Then I did all but the last prompt for JEM Week 2016 (I swear I'll get the last one written eventually), and I was practicing for an audition for an honor band on top of all that. Plus my uncle came home from Japan for a few weeks, so woo hoo!!!
> 
> The next chapter I'm hoping to have done by Valentine's day. I made it into the honor band, and the performance is in a week (still have to learn some of the music for that) then jazz season starts up, and holy shit, I'm so busy. 
> 
> Anyway! I wrote basically all of this in two days which is a ton of writing for me since I'm super slow when I write. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> \--Shelby

Fall has always been my favorite season. When I was younger, I’d help Mom and Dad rake up leaves. They even got me one of those small, kid rakes, y’know? It was obviously too small for it to scrape up more than a small handful of leaves until it got clogged up, and I was too small to actually want to help for more than a handful of minutes. Still, they insisted I was a “big help”--I always beamed at them through the gap in my front teeth--even as I jumped in their freshly scooped pile in the middle of our small yard.

Distant memories from my younger years weren’t the only reasons why autumn was my favorite. First, there was Halloween, and with Halloween came pumpkin everything. Who doesn’t like pumpkin spice? Crazy people, that’s who. Mom loved this certain caramel pumpkin scented candle, and she lit it every year starting on the first day of fall. Dad always took me through the corn maze at the local pumpkin patch, and my sister Mikasa and I always got to carve pumpkins. 

Thanksgiving was the second reason. Sure, my relatives were irritating as hell--“What do you mean you took up the drums instead of playing basketball? Your father was terrific player--what a shame!”, “My, you’ve grown!”, and my personal favorite, “Have you got a girlfriend yet?”--but the  _ food _ . My grandma always made the absolute best lemon meringue before she passed. Even though my cousins were always mean to me when the adults weren’t around, I always beat them when they tried to physically pick on me. Besides, I only had to see them once a year.

There were tons of reasons why it was the best, but the main one for me was the change it brought every year. Leaves turned brilliant colors fell to the ground. People changed their clothes from shorts and t-shirts to sweaters and jeans. Drinks were hot and creamy like hot chocolate instead of lemonade with ice cubes floating in it.

This year, more things were changing than in the physical sense. It seemed like a lot of things were changing, but really, it was only the change in dynamic of mine and Jean’s relationship and the band getting more publicity. 

I guess I was lucky change never really bothered me. Actually, no. It used to bother me a lot, but once I accepted the fact that things would change whether I wanted them to or not, things got a lot easier. 

Mikasa and I had gotten separated in the system. I couldn’t fix that--and not for lack of trying. So many times I begged to see her and rebelled when I couldn’t. It took over a year to accept that we couldn’t live together since I was in a group home for boys--I was labeled extremely high risk due to my self-inflicted incident. However, as I got more stable, they let us visit each other more frequently until we got out. So no, I wasn’t able to change things directly when I was younger, but I learned it was better to give in sometimes. After all, Kasa and I stay in touch, and we’re both relatively happy--a far cry from our teenage years. 

I still got frustrated sometimes, though, when I couldn’t control things. Jean’s feelings were beyond my jurisdiction, and it made me feel so helpless. Knowing I was the reason he was unhappy wasn’t something I wanted, but I also knew that it was my life, and I had to live for me.

I rubbed at my forearms absently as I thought. The real life Atlas was watching me from across the table as I stared out the window at the cars in the parking lot. Usually, I didn’t think about my early months in the system for obvious reasons, but sometimes the feelings came back. I didn’t want to cut anymore, but I still wanted a distraction for my feelings, and my body would remind me of my previous, unhealthy coping methods. 

Standing up, I gestured to the door. “I’m gonna step outside real quick.”

He nodded, but his hair covered up his face too much for me to properly catch any emotions he might have, not that it mattered. 

Outside, I pulled my phone out and spun it around in my hands a few times. “When I find myself in times of trouble,” I sang to myself, “Mama’s voice comes back to me,” the phone lit up when I pressed the side button, and I typed in my code, “speaking words of wisdom--call your sister.”

Mikasa answered on the fourth ring. “Hello, Eren.”

“Hey, Kasa,” I said. “You busy?”

There was some shuffling in the background. “No. What’s wrong?”

A small smile graced my lips. She’d always been protective of me--especially after I woke up in the hospital with her by my side. “Can’t I just call and say hi?”

“I know you. You sound upset.”

“I do not.”  _ Wow, Eren. Way to be childish. _

“I assume there’s something wrong with one of your roommates? Ymir? Or is your water heater broken again?”

“You’re aware of what they say when you assume something, right?”

“Very.”

I leaned back against the wall and let my head tip back. “Okay, so I have this friend, and he’s having a hard time with one of his friends.” My eyes closed. “So apparently, they were friends with benefits when they met, basically, but they never got any farther than that relationship-wise.”

“Okay,” she prompted. 

“And so now he’s dating somebody else, but his friend is heartbroken despite the fact that no romantic relationship has formed between them, but, like, they thought maybe there could be? But it’s been so long that my friend thinks it’s too late. Plus he still has a boyfriend now.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t happen to know this friend, would I?”

Yikes. “Uh, no. Probably not. I just met him somewhat recently.”

“Uh huh. So are you wanting my take on it?”

“No, I called just to let you know that my friend is having dating issues. I’m gonna hang up now.” 

“I think your  _ friend _ needs to think about what he really wants. Does he want to be with his friend or continue his relationship with his current significant other?”

“I think he said he wants to continue his relationship, but he doesn’t know how to keep from hurting his friend’s feelings. The friend has already seen the boyfriend,” I added.

“Ah, I see.” There was a pause as she deliberated. That’s why I liked advice from her. She always took her time and thought things over carefully before answering. “I think your friend should sit down and have a conversation with his friend. They need to get everything out in the open. I think your friend also needs to remember that he isn’t responsible for his friend’s feelings. Also, the friend will get over it eventually with enough time and space to think about all the things they discussed.”

I nodded slowly even though she couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Kasa.”

“Now stop being such a whiney bitch and talk with him.” I opened my mouth to reply indignantly, but she cut me off. “I’m not stupid. Rip it off like a band-aid. And tell Ymir and Jean I said hi.” She hung up.

I slid my phone back into my pocket. Fine. I was going to have the best talk with Jean. The best talk ever. We were going to talk about how much I still liked him and how much he liked me, and we were going to end up dismissing all of it because that was definitely going to help. 

I rubbed my forehead. Jesus Christ. There was no way this could possibly blow up in my face. 

Jean and I were both fireworks, I guess. Circumstance lit our fuses, and we took off together into the sky. But everybody knows fireworks aren’t supposed to be like a candle. They don’t burn steadily and burn out quietly. They go soaring into the sky and  _ explode _ into brilliant patterns. People revel in the burn and bang, but the remains still have to fall back down to the ground at some point; they don’t think about the aftermath. 

We were never made to last in this night sky. Our relationship wasn’t built with the purpose of stability--of a slow burn to last a lifetime. There was no way we could’ve made us work--the relationship was composed with sensitive, explosive material from the beginning. Neither of us were ready then to have a one, and I think we were there for each other as stepping stones. Maybe we were each other’s lesson to learn. 

The door opened.  “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. “I’m fine, Ymir.” 

She threw my coat at me. “Put this on before you get sick.”

I put on the coat.

“We’re going for a walk. Come on.” She strode forward without turning around to see if I was following; she knew I was. “You look like you were thinking pretty hard there. Could practically see the smoke.”

“Just got off the phone with my sister,” I replied, ignoring her jab.

She made a sound in the back of her throat like a cat purring. “Still can’t believe she’s straight. Damn shame with those legs.”

I gagged and hit her arm. “Shut the fuck  _ up _ , Ymir. You’re talking about my  _ little sister _ .”

She only laughed brashly. “Alright, alright. Fine. What’s up with her?”

“Well, she said hi,” I began dumbly.

“Hi, Mikasa.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was talking with her about how I can help Jean not be so upset or whatever, and she told me I should sit down with him and talk.”

“She isn’t wrong.”

“You’re just agreeing with her because you think she’s hot.” I buttoned up some of the big buttons on my coat. The wind was sharp today, and it cut right through me. 

She grinned for a moment. “That’s true, but I’m being serious. How is anything going to get better if you don’t communicate?”

I made a face. “I hate it when you actually make sense. It’s a good thing it’s so rare.”

“You’re a real asshole.”

“As opposed to a fake one? Wait, why are we walking?” I stopped and ended up on the receiving end of somebody’s glare as they almost ran into me. “Why’d we just leave Armin and Atlas?”

“Atlas?”

I waved my hand. 

“We agreed to meet up again sometime later. I can only take so much socializing with new people in one day before my head implodes. You know that.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Her voice was mocking. “Aw, I didn’t get to say goodbye to my  _ boyfriieenndd. _ ”

“I totally do not sound like that, asshole.”

“Yeah huh, dick.”

“Dick? Thought you said I didn’t have one?”

“Right--I said you  _ were _ one.”

I squinted. “Touche.”

She kept walking, and I followed. “Can we have pizza tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess. As long as I get one with pineapple on it.”

“Ew, fine.”

* * *

It probably wasn’t even that long until Jean got home, but it felt like a fucking eternity. I was waiting in my room with the door cracked, so I could hear when he got home. I jumped up when I heard the door, fully intending to march out and talk to him before I lost my nerve, but then I saw how… happy he looked. He didn’t seem as sullen and quiet. 

I poked my head out into the hallway and saw him sit at the counter to chat with Ymir as she got our pizzas ready--she insisted on making it instead of ordering it. Honestly, I watched for a creepily long time, but he didn’t notice. He was acting like  _ normal _ .

_ Maybe you don’t have to talk to him at all, _ I thought. 

Quietly, I slipped back into my room and stayed there until dinner was ready. I wasn’t upset, but I think I was shocked. The difference was astounding, and I didn’t want to put a damper on his good mood. It took Ymir coming into my room and telling me to stop being a pussy to get me to go out and get my food. Thankfully, Jean was in the shower by the time I could be convinced to go back in the other room. 

“Can you be any more of a little wuss?”

I shot her a sour look. “He seems happy, and I didn’t want to bother him.”

She put her hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes. “You shouldn’t be worried about your existence upsetting him. Even though you’re going through a rough patch, it’ll be fine. Just keep being you.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Alright. Fine. You’re right.”

“Good. Now eat something. It’s really good, and you will want to orgasm just by looking at it.”

* * *

Jean left after noon the next day without saying where he was going, but he still seemed like he was in a good mood, so that was a plus. Except that I had nothing to do that day. Ymir left to go get her hair cut, and it was a Sunday, so nothing was open, and there was nothing good on TV. As I lounged on the couch and threw a ball up in the air like some lovesick fuckboy on an early 90s sitcom, the urge to write struck me. 

Call me cliche, but I was a typical, tortured artist. Tortured enough to write poetry instead of prose. Yeah, tell me about it. My taste ranged from Poe to Lord Byron. Usually, I would write something, and Jean and Ymir would see about putting some music to it. Sometimes they’d write something themselves and put a melody to it, but Jean preferred writing paragraphs to forming stanzas, and Ymir didn’t have the patience for it half the time.

I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen before settling on the couch. A few lines came to me every once in awhile--I wasn’t a fast writer, mind you--and slowly, a song came together. It was basically about apprehension and indecision. The singer would be tempted by two paths, and they’re unable to choose.

I spent the better part of the afternoon writing down stray themes and ideas and tweaking what I had down until there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” I yelled since I couldn’t be bothered to get up and interrupt my creative flow at the moment.

The door opened, and I heard the click as it shut. “You really should lock your door. It isn’t safe.”

Mikasa was standing at the door, toeing off her black, snow-covered boots. She unwound the red scarf from her neck and hung it and her black peacoat on a chair. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no. It’s just--we talked the other day.”

“I know.” She came around and sat on the couch at my feet. “Ymir called and said you could use a--how did she say it?--swift kick in the ass.” A smirk touched her lips. 

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

“You know she worries, and I do too. I’ve been meaning to come by, actually. I’ve been hearing less and less out of you lately. Are you okay?”

“Kasa, I’m totally fine. I promise.”

She crossed her arms. “Did you talk to Jean yet?”

My lips twisted to the side unpleasantly. “No…”

“Why not?”

I sighed. “I should’ve. I know I should’ve. It’s just that he looked so upbeat when he got home last night, and I couldn’t bring myself to approach the subject when it was the first time he looked that happy in, like, a week.”

“I see.”

“I’ll do it soon,” I assured her, but I was mostly talking to myself. 

“You’d better before your time passes.”

I shifted to face her more. “What do you mean?”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “The longer you wait the harder it’ll be to bring it up, and the next thing you know, it’ll be several months later, and you  _ still _ haven’t talked about it.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Maybe we  _ don’t _ have to talk about it.”

She shook her head. “No. All those feelings you both have will still be there--even if you can ignore them for extended periods of time. Your friendship might never be the same. Do you want to lose him as a friend?”

Pause. “No.”

“Then you’d better get a move on.”

I huffed and set my pad and paper on the coffee table. Of course, she was right. That didn’t make me any less nervous. Nervous? Anxious? Dreadful? What I was feeling was either all of those or something else totally different. Maybe it was a combination. Either way, I wasn’t really looking forward to this. 

“You’re working on another song?” She picked up the pad of paper and scanned it.

“Yeah. I’m not getting much done right now.”

She nodded. “Have you eaten yet today?”

“I can take care of myself,” I grumbled. Truthfully, I’d only had some toast that morning. The whole being bored out of my mind thing really took up more of my time than I cared to admit.

Mikasa stood up and went into the kitchen. Reluctantly, I followed. “Kasa, I’m a grown ass man.”

She put a few pieces on a plate and stuck it in the microwave. “A grown ass man that obviously doesn’t know how to take care of himself.” Her gray eyes looked right into mine. 

I always thought she was lucky. Her features were delicate, and she favored our father while I favored our mother. Her hair was the color of a raven’s feathers, her skin was fair, she never had to worry about acne a day in her life, and her figure was slender. I, on the other hand, showed our mom’s Southern Italian roots since my skin was much darker. Genetics weren’t exactly kind to me since I’d had braces when I was younger, puberty made my face extremely oily for the longest time, and my hair curled up when it got long enough. And to top it all off, I was shorter than average height.

When we were little, I was extremely jealous of her. I knew since middle school that I wasn’t totally average. It didn’t take long after puberty hit--so many tissues--to realize I was into anybody no matter what their gender was. School was easy for me since I was able to remember things quickly--multiplication tables, vocabulary, etc. I wasn’t into all the things all the other kids my age were. I loved the drumset since it was loud and the center of attention--something that gave me an adrenaline rush since I liked and feared it at the same time. The only sort of physical activity I enjoyed was long distance running, and talking to people wasn’t my forte. Looking back on it, I really was a stereotypical emo kid. I wore eyeliner to school a few times, for Christ’s sake. It was quite tragic. 

Anyway, Mikasa was a golden girl compared to me. Through high school, she was a flutist and a damn good one. She was also good academically, but socially, she was more normal. Fashion was never an issue for her and neither was making friends. She was in several clubs and sports like track, girl scouts until high school, cheerleading for a few years, key club, and she even learned martial arts. Everybody loved her. As far as I knew, people thought of her as the beautiful, amazing girl with the older brother that kissed girls  _ and _ boys. 

Mom and Dad were both accepting when I came out to them as pansexual. We agreed to keep it quiet--as in Mikasa, Mom, and Dad were the only ones that knew--until I got older. It was strange at first because Mom was one of those people that would point out if she thought the girl on TV was pretty or if the guy was hot. Dad would always find amusement in it--their relationship was a strong one, after all--but there would always be a sort of weighted pause whenever I agreed with her. I ignored it, and it eventually stopped happening. 

After the crash, Kasa and I both stayed with some distant relatives for a year. They were totally fine with taking in my sister, but they suspected I wasn’t totally right in the head, so they were more reluctant to take me in too. I became even weirder when we lived with them. Despite my anger, I didn’t dare get into a fight with anybody at our new school. The last thing I wanted was to get kicked out due to my aunt’s strict non-violence rule or risk getting myself  _ and _ Mikasa kicked out. I could never do that to her. 

I’d known about how a lot of people my age would keep pencil sharpeners in their bags and a small screwdriver. I had an acquaintance at school--I never had any real friends there if I’m honest with myself--that told me it helped them. They said the physical pain distracted them from the mental anguish of their daily life. If I wasn’t dealing with the death of my parents and a sudden move across the country I would’ve never tried it, but they were right about the distraction part. Needless to say, I kept my new habit from my parental guardians and my sister. 

Until I almost died, of course. I figured she knew about it, but I never thought she’d find me bleeding out on the bathroom floor. 

For years after we’d gotten out of the system, I blamed myself for getting us put in foster care. Mikasa was perfectly fine, but our relatives thought she was secretly as crazy as I was, and nobody else in our family was willing to take us. It took a long time for me to realize that blaming myself for that still was dumb. It’d happened, and I couldn’t go back and change it. Mikasa also pointed out to me that if our family actually loved us, they would’ve have given us away. 

I sat at the counter and rested my chin on my palm. “I can take care of myself perfectly fine, thank you very much. How are ‘rents?” I asked, changing the subject before she could tell me again how incompetent I was. 

“You could call them yourself, you know. They consider you their son too.”

“I know, I know. You’re closer to them, though.” 

While I was in a group home, Mikasa was put in a good foster home. They loved her, and they asked her if they could adopt her just before she turned seventeen. She asked me if it was okay with me, but I knew she loved them, and I didn’t want to cause her any more pain, so I said it was okay. They offered to fight to get me in their custody too--Mrs. Ackerman had a soft spot for me, and I still didn’t know why--but I declined since I was so close to aging out. I never admitted it, but I didn’t want to get adopted. I know my parents would’ve wanted me to have another family, but I couldn’t imagine myself as anything other than their kid.

“Maybe, but they love hearing from you. You know that.” The microwave dinged, and she took the pizza out. “Maybe we can go visit them sometime soon.” She reached into the fridge and pulled out two sodas, sliding one to me across the counter.

I shrugged and popped mine open. “Sounds good.” 

We both sat and ate our fair share. Ymir did a good job, but holy shit. There was enough pizza to feed the national guard. 

I was thinking of something else to say when the door opened. Jean came in looking kind of sweaty despite the fact that it was cold outside. “Hey, Mikasa.” He gave a little wave. It was pretty obvious that he liked her. When she was around, he got more quiet and blushy. I guess that was the main difference between me and her to him. I was Eros, and Mikasa was a mix between Ludus and Agape. 

“Hi, Jean.” A smile touched her lips. “How are you?”

He unconsciously started biting his lower lip somewhat neurotically. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Why are you sweaty?” I asked. “It’s like twenty degrees outside.”

“I was… shooting hoops.” He took off his shoes and coat.

“Since when you play basketball?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Since recently.”

“We don’t even own a basketball, though.”

I could tell he was getting irritated, and I was fully aware it had everything to do with our unresolved issues. God bless Mikasa for being there to reel it in before it escalated into anything serious. “You’re learning to play? I was in basketball my sophomore year in high school.”

His attention turned to her, and some of the tension started to leave his shoulders. “Really?”

She nodded.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was, uh, at the batting cages, and some guy asked if I wanted to play with him, so…”

“Ah, I see. Maybe I can help you learn sometime if you’d like?”

He blinked a few times as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Um, y-yes. Yeah! That sounds okay. Thank you.”

Mikasa smiled. “Text me, and we can set up a time.” She got up and grabbed the notepad I was using. Flipping to an empty page, she wrote down her phone number in her neat handwriting then ripped the page out and handed it to him. “Here.”

If Jean and I were on better terms, I would’ve laughed at him. The look on his face was priceless. “Th-thanks.” And he stumbled into his bedroom.

I looked at my sister for a long moment. “What the actual hell was that?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What was what?”

“You were totally hitting on him.”

All I got in reply was a small shrug.

“Do you  _ like _ him?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

I stared at her incredulously. “You’re supposed to be the  _ smart one _ . Isn’t it a royally  _ shitty _ idea to get right back into another relationship as soon as you break up with somebody?” Nevermind the fact that we were never technically, officially  _ together _ . 

She stood up and put her coat and shoes on. “I’ll call you later, Eren.” And with a final kiss to my head, she was gone. 

* * *

The wind was strong as Mikasa walked out the apartment complex to her car. She was mulling over her visit with her older brother. She’d been meaning to come by and visit for quite some time, but her schedule tended to get filled up at times. 

As much as she was aware he was fully capable of taking care of himself, she still got worried and wanted to take care of him. At times, she’d remember how the kids would say such mean things about him when they thought he couldn’t hear, but she knew he probably could. He had a knack for hearing things he was never supposed to. And every once in a while she would catch him rubbing the insides of his arms, and she’d get scared all over again. 

Years couldn’t replace the way she felt when she found him that night in the bathroom they shared at their aunt and uncle’s house. He’d been so pale, and the blood was so bright, so dark against the floor tiles. At the hospital, he looked like a ghost against the sheets. 

She shook her head.  _ He’s fine, _ she reminded herself.  _ That was a long time ago. _

Even though his incident was years ago, she still felt the overwhelming urge to protect and help him, and that was what prompted him to ask Jean to shoot some hoops. Jean was a good guy, and she liked him to a point. He was always sweet to her and complimented her whenever he saw her, so maybe, Mikasa thought, he would get over Eren faster if he was preoccupied with somebody else. 

She sighed as she started her car. Oh, the things she’d do for her idiot brother. 

* * *

It’d been a solid fifteen minutes, and I still couldn’t believe that Mikasa had asked my hopefully-still-best-friend inadvertently out on a date. Jesus Christ. I was torn between,  _ Won’t it be weird for her? For Jean? Mikasa and I are siblings and Jean and I have been living together for half a decade, _ and,  _ If Jean lays an unwanted hand on my little sister, I swear to god… _

What a brilliant mess this was turning out to be. 

I’d gotten another soda when Jean emerged and got a drink of his own. We were both quiet for a few tense moments. “So you like basketball?” I began slowly.

He nodded minutely. “S’alright. The, uh, guy I met--Connie--he’s pretty good. Been showing me how things work. Rules and whatnot.”

“He sounds nice.”

“He is. Short and has a laugh like you wouldn’t believe.” He shook his head. “Looks like a monk with his head all shaved. Nuts, I swear.”

“Sounds like it.” I shook my head in what I hoped looked like amusement. God, this was so fucking stupid--this small talk. There was no way we were stuck in a situation like this. Not after five plus years of trading vulnerabilities and history. I placed my hands flat down on the counter and looked at them. “If I talk, will you listen?”

There was a pause then a quiet, “Yes.”

I kept looking down at my fingers, spreading them apart evenly as I spoke. “When we first started living together, I had these dreams. Nightmares, really. I’d die in them or get extremely injured in them over and over again by these monsters. They were huge--giants--and there were an infinite amount of them.” I laughed to myself. “It was strange because I usually forgot the faces of the people in these dreams, but sometimes I’d remember certain things about them.

“One dream was me saving Mikasa from a bunch of guys trying to steal her after they murdered her parents, and she ended up coming to live with me as an adopted sibling. Another one was of somebody taking me and Mikasa away while one of these giants killed our mom right in front of us. 

“See, these dreams would come back and haunt me sometimes for days on end. It was always people I knew too or people I felt I  _ should _ know. You were in some of them, and I remembered we fought a lot in them, but we were actually friends despite what we tried to tell people.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

I licked my lips. This whole thing felt like dumping a huge bag out onto the floor. All the issues we’d been carrying on our backs laid out in front of us on the rug. “Because I’m working up to a point. And that point is: I think those were memories from a past life or something, and if we were together for that life and this one, then who’s to say we won’t find each other again in the next one, y’know? Maybe we  _ are _ meant to be together, just not here, not now.” I looked up at him. He was staring intently at me. 

“Circumstances, Jean. We were put together by our own unfortunate circumstances, and we went off too early.” I sighed. “I think if we had met sometime later--sometime after we weren’t in need of a foundation--we could’ve been something more than what we are.” 

“So you’re saying the only reason we aren’t compatible is because we met too early.”

“Yes. No. Kind of.” I chewed on my lip for a moment. “We didn’t meet too early age-wise. Not like that. Like… like neither of us was ready to have a real relationship. We needed somebody to be a sort of… template for a relationship first. Just to remind us of what they were supposed to feel like.” Jean opened his mouth. “And before you say something about me using you, no. Not like that either. It was more of a reminder that life isn’t meant to be lived loveless.”

He was quiet. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know how much you loved me until it was too late.” I sighed quietly. “I think we both know our chance passed by longer ago than when I met Armin. And if I’m being perfectly honest, this is always going to be my favorite  _ what if _ , y’know? We’re always going to wonder what could’ve happened if we’d tried.” My unspoken  _ but… _ was loud and clear.

He fiddled with the can in his hands. “Did you love me too?”

“Did I?” I reached out and touched his wrist. Thankfully, he didn’t pull away. “I still do. You’re my best friend, Jean. I’d do all of this over again if that meant having you by my side at the end.”

I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He nodded after a few moments. “Yeah,” he said, voice soft. I didn’t want to admit to myself that it was probably because he was fighting back tears. 

“Jean, I don’t want you to look at me and think about what we could’ve had. I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurting. Please. You don’t have to tell me you’re fine--you don’t have to lie--but I want to know what I  _ can do _ to help you move on because we’ve got to. We can’t keep doing this.”

He quickly swiped under his eye, and I pretended I didn’t notice. “You’re not going anywhere, right?”

I gripped his hand this time. “No. No, of course not. I won’t leave you. I won’t try and hurt you. I’m not  _ him _ .”

I think the mention of his father tipped him over the edge the rest of the way because his face crumpled, and he started to cry. I got up from my perch and pulled him close, rubbing his back and squeezing him so tight I imagined all the little pieces getting stuck back together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. I hadn't planned on fully resolving the Jean/Eren issue, but characters often do what they want. The boys still have a few small, loose ends to tie up, but hopefully, things will get better from here on out. 
> 
> I'd like to thank my muse for reminding me of the cliche "Jean goes out with Mikasa in a JM fic" thing. It actually gave me an idea for the story, so fingers crossed it goes well. 
> 
> Sorry for any rusty parts in this chapter. Eren is extremely hard for me to write sometimes just because I want to stick to canon, but I also don't want to make him too similar to Jean. You feel me?
> 
> Wait, before I forget! I found inspiration in "The Kids Aren't Alright" and "Fourth Of July" by Fall Out Boy for this chapter. Towards the end when they're discussing things, I actually ended up putting some small phrases from the lyrics right in there. 
> 
> Thank you for reading; comments are always welcome!
> 
> \--Shelby


	15. Ymir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. I'm a lying liar who lies. My goal for the chapter was last week, but I got busy again. But hey, better late than never, right?

As a kid, I’d had energy like you wouldn’t believe. My dad got me a bike with the hopes of wearing me out before I went to sleep. Y’know, so I’d actually  _ go _ to sleep. He’d had to teach me, and frankly, I was a shitty student. I’d never been one to listen to what other people said. Looking back, it was obvious how much he was stressing out when I decided to just go off on my own, paying no mind to the stop sign at the end of the block. I was lucky people didn’t drive in our suburban neighborhood too often, or I would’ve definitely gotten run over.

It wasn’t surprising that after twenty minutes, I fell off. It wasn’t a little fall either. My dumbass kid-self thought that less than a half an hour of shakily riding a bike--when the training wheels had come off literally minutes before, might I add--was more than enough experience I needed to jump curbs. My tire hit the curb, and I ended up sliding off the seat and getting handlebars to the gut before falling to the side. 

I don’t remember the sound of my dad running toward me to help me up. I don’t remember how the small rocks on the road felt when they dug into my hands. And I don’t remember how my tears tasted. However, I do remember being picked up and taken inside. My bike was discarded in the front lawn for the time being. Dad was very careful in cleaning off my hands and giving me ice for my belly. 

There were two reasons why I remembered that. Firstly, even as an adult, I had a fairly decent amount of energy. Except for when I stayed up all night to binge watch some shitty nineties sitcom or something equally stupid. Today, though, my energy levels were totally gone. All the socializing and  _ effort _ I was putting into starting a relationship was exhausting. It reminded me why I didn’t form close relationships with people--only a select few ended up being worth it in the end. 

I was civil at least to Mike. As a private detective, I was sure he understood what people did under stress, and I was sure, say, the parents of a murdered kid were stressed and sad whenever they talked to him. Oh, dude, what if he’s looked into murders that the police never solved? Has he found kidnappers? Did he work in an office with other people too? With case files and everything?

_ Stop, Ymir. Focus. _

I really should stop watching so many crime shows.

Anyway, I wasn’t rude to him or anything. At least my father raised me right. I guess he just had some… character flaws.

Like being attracted to minors.

Armin was a pretty okay human being. We’d chatted a bit. I was glad he was a much better conversationalist than I was because I was fresh out of topics about ten minutes in. The two of us stayed at the coffee shop for quite awhile. It wasn’t until I noticed Eren had stepped out that I got Armin’s number and excused myself. 

Since I was a glutton for punishment, I’d stopped at the counter. Historia had looked up when she’d seen movement and asked if she could help me with anything. My response of, “Just want a hot cup of…” and looking at her approvingly definitely didn’t win me any brownie points. 

She’d scowled. “If you aren’t going to order anything, get out before I call the cops on you for loitering.”

Wow, I didn’t think I looked  _ that _ threatening to passersby. “Ouch. Make that a cold glass.”

I’d been amused, but she  _ really _ hadn’t. 

“Ymir, what do you want with me?”

I’d shrugged lightly. “Just so you know, I wasn’t, like, stalking you or anything. I had no idea you worked here. I didn’t come here just to taunt you unnecessarily.”

“And here we are.” She’d crossed her arms. 

“Hey, getting a rise out of you is just a bonus.”

She’d huffed but seemed to understand that I hadn’t been purposely trying to follow her around and make her uncomfortable. She’d gestured to Armin with her chin. “Who’s he?”

“Thought you weren’t interested in anything about me.” When she pursed her lips and looked like she was going to walk away, I kept talking. “Long-lost brother I never knew I had.”

She’d squinted. I knew she was debating if I had been telling the truth. It was obvious she didn’t exactly trust me, but she also had seen me pass out not too long beforehand. “How did you not know about him?”

Many options went through my mind. I could’ve lied and said that my father slept around a lot as a teenager and got some random chick pregnant between his junior and senior year of high school. I could’ve spouted a half-truth and told her that my mom left when I was born and had another kid with somebody else she actually loved. The possibilities were endless, but I wasn’t a liar, and my father’s decisions weren’t mine.

“When I was a kid, my father raped one of my best friends, and I never heard anything from her ever again.”

Historia’s lips had parted in shock, and I swear, most of the color drained from her face. Sure, I looked and acted the part of an early 2000s emo kid, but I was sure she hadn’t expected me to have an actually depressing background. “O-oh my god. I’m--”

I’d held a hand up. “S’fine, sweetheart. I don’t dwell on it too much.” Not voluntarily. Besides, he’d made his mistakes, and I wasn’t him. 

She still looked like she wanted to say something else, so I beat her to the punch. “Look, I’ve got an idiot waiting for me outside, and he’s going to freeze his ass off, so I’d better give him this.” I lifted the coat I had in my hands in case she hadn’t noticed it before. 

“C-can I at least get you a coffee or something before you go?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Nah. You can keep your pity coffee,” I said without any malice. “I’ll see you around, kid.”

“Kid?” I heard her say indignantly as I walked out the door. 

“Aren’t you cold?” I asked Eren. He was leaning against the building with his eyes closed. 

He shrugged. “I’m fine, Ymir.”

I’d had my fill of emotions for the day, meaning it was time to revert back to annoying asshole. I threw his coat at his face. “Put this on before you get sick.”

He put on the coat.

“We’re going for a walk. Come on.” I strode ahead, knowing without a doubt he was following me. “You look like you were thinking pretty hard there. Could practically see smoke.”

Sadly, he ignored my jab. “Just got off the phone with my sister.”

I made a purring noise in my throat. Oh, yes. Mikasa. Glossy black hair cut into a sort of bob at her shoulders the last time I saw her. Smooth, pale skin without any blemishes or anything. Pink lips like a doll. “Still can’t believe she’s straight. Damn shame with those legs.”

Eren gagged dramatically and hit me on the arm. “Shut the fuck  _ up _ , Ymir. You’re talking about my  _ little sister. _ ”

That only made me laugh loudly despite the thought that popped into my head: Armin with  _ my _ little  _ brother _ . Did that mean I had to look out for him? Was I supposed to call and check up on him a lot or something?

“Alright, alright. Fine. What’s up with her?” I asked, pushing my thoughts aside. 

“Well, she said hi.”

“Hi, Mikasa.” Jesus. Why couldn’t he have a little more finesse with his words? He was a songwriter for fuck’s sake.

He rolled his eyes and continued. “I was talking to her about how I can help Jean not be so upset or whatever, and she told me I should sit down with him and talk.”

Brains  _ and _ beauty. The universe was fucking testing me. “She isn’t wrong.”

“You’re just agreeing with her because you think she’s hot.” 

I grinned. She  _ was _ hot. “That’s true, but I’m being serious. How is anything going to get better if you don’t communicate?” God, I thought I was done with all the emotions today.

He made a fast that was halfway between disgust and pain. “I hate it when you actually make sense. It’s a good thing it’s so rare.”

“You’re a real asshole.” I try to be nice, and this is how he repays me? Jesus. Fake friends. Where’re all you real fuckers at?

“As opposed to a fake one? Wait, why are we walking?” He stopped, and I glared at him when I almost ran into him. “Why’d we leave Armin and Atlas?”

“Atlas?”

He waved a hand. Right. He must’ve been talking about Mike.

“We agreed to meet up again some time later. I can only take so much socializing with new people in one day before my head implodes. You know that.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

I put my hands on my hips and said with a high-pitched voice, “Aw, I didn’t get to say goodbye to my  _ boyfriieenndd. _ ”

He looked affronted. “I totally do not sound like that, asshole.”

“Yeah huh, dick.” Childish, I know, but so worth it.

“Dick? Thought you said I didn’t have one.”

“Right--I said you  _ were _ one.”

He squinted. “Touche.”

I started walking again, and he followed me. “Can we have pizza tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess. As long as I get one with pineapple on it.”

“Ew. Fine.”

* * *

When we got home, I left the house to roam around and burn off some of my nervous energy. I found out he’d wussed out instead of having that talk which, I guess, explains why Jean was in such a chipper mood when I’d talked to him. Figuring there was only one thing left to do to get Eren’s ass in gear, I called Mikasa. 

“Yes, Ymir?” she asked after the second ring.

I squinted up at the sun. I’d had to go get some razors and tampons since I was nearly out. “Okay, so I’ve got a question for you.”

“No, I will not go out with you.”

“Damn, it was worth a shot.” I laughed. “No, I’m not asking you out again this time. It’s about Eren.”

“What about him? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s fine--just an emotional wreck. I don’t know if he’s told you about his situation?”

“He’s mentioned it.”

“Yeah, well, he still hasn’t talked to Jean even though we all know he should, so I was hoping you could give him a swift kick in the ass for me.”

She laughed, and the connection made it sound weird, but I knew it was beautiful from all the times I’d heard it in real life. Sigh.

“I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

My tragic bike accident didn’t keep me off the damn thing. In fact, I was even more determined to learn how to ride it properly. I guess I felt like I had something to prove to my dad and to myself--no matter how many times I fell off, I could always get back on. Each mistake was just one more thing I knew I either had to avoid doing or learn how to do better. 

And I did get better. I was riding circles around my friends when we rode up and down the street. It was almost liberating learning for myself that I could accomplish anything if I set my mind to it. 

Just as there were times when I just couldn’t do it--or didn’t want to--there were days when Eren and Jean just couldn't get along. Jean would be in a pissy mood, or Eren would be tired from watching chick flicks all night. Whatever the case, the two of them would argue until I managed to put a stop to it. 

It wasn’t like shoving each other out of the way. No, they would make petty remarks to each other until one of them snapped, and then we had a huge problem on our hands. After the second or third time I saw this, I made it my job to kick one--or both if I didn’t feel like putting up with it--of them to the curb until they could play nice. 

I was always amazed, though, at how they could--sometimes kiss--and make up by the next day. It was just like learning to ride a bike--they would fall off, but they always got back on.

I sort of knew in a way that they’d follow this pattern until something physically ripped them apart. They’d annoy each other, they’d argue, and they’d make up. It must’ve been in their physical makeup or something. It was all they knew how to do. Sure, there were longer and shorter periods between these cycles, but a circle is always going to come back to the same point.

This was why I wasn’t surprised when I walked in the door and found Eren and Jean hugging it out in our kitchen. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. They were going to fall off their bike again. They knew it, and I knew it too, but I liked to think that they learned something from each fall. Maybe they learned what they needed to work harder at and what to abandon. Maybe they learned all the wrong ways to do something. Maybe I was giving them too much credit, and they weren’t learning anything. 

I guess I’d taken on the role of my father, and they’d become me because I was always going to be there to help clean off their knees when they fell. 

I like to think of myself as a tough person with a hard shell and an even harder interior--a diamond in a way. Nothing can penetrate a diamond, but I think the events of my life so far are smoothing off the rough edges, and the people in my life are the only thing that  _ can _ bore through a diamond--light. If I’m being carved and cut and being hit by something as soft as light, then will I be as brilliant as everybody else someday?

Yes, I’m tough and hardened, but loving the two people who brought me in off the streets is taking what I am and making it beautiful.

* * *

Sure, you might’ve expected me to run in and throw my arms around them since they finally made up for the upteenth time, but no. First, this wasn’t some cliche sitcom. Second, I’m not about that “hug it out!” life. Third, why would I intrude on their moment?

Their love-fest lasted approximately sixteen seconds once I came in the door. Jean went to his room, pretending he hadn’t been crying--the denial is strong with this kid, I swear--and Eren went to his own room. When he came out, he had on comfier, less wet shirt 

“Aw, you didn’t want to be in the wet t-shirt contest today?”

He gave an eye roll and an extremely dramatic, exasperated sigh. “Two minutes, Ymir. Can you be nice for just two minutes?”

I snorted and flopped down on the couch. “I was nice for a whole morning today--I’m dying inside. All this sweetness is rotting my insides out like some sort of cavity.”

He made a face and sat on the floor in front of me. My fingers automatically buried themselves in his hair. “Having you here is like some sort of cavity,” he mumbled, but there was no bite to it.

“Whatever. I’m like the filling. I make it all better.”

He hummed thoughtfully, and it was quiet for a calm moment. “Yeah, you do.”

I tugged at his hair harder than was kind of necessary, but he had that stupidly thick skull and tough skin of his, so it didn’t bother him a bit. His hair was actually satisfyingly full. It was like when you were a kid and you sat in those fields of grass where there were no bald patches, and it was super long--so long that you just wanted to dig your fingers into it. Ripping it almost seemed like a sin. That’s kinda what he was like. Totally unfair if you ask me. 

Jean came out when he was composed. His eyes were sort of puffy underneath by his cheeks, but I didn’t mention it. He had some sort of macho complex, and he hated anybody knowing, let alone seeing, that he’d been crying.

He fiddled around in the kitchen with something--putting away clean dishes it sounded like--before he finally came in and sat down on the couch next to me. Even though he put in earbuds and opened a book he brought out, pointedly ignoring us to save his fragile pride, it was nice. 

Somehow I ended up falling asleep or something because when I woke up, the sun was setting, a blanket was covering me, and the dynamic duo was nowhere to be seen. It was silent, so I assumed they were either sleeping or gone. 

I stretched and pulled out my phone, pulling up my newest contact. I stared at Armin’s name, chewing my lip as I debated what I should say. I felt like I should say  _ something _ , but I was at a loss as to what. It wasn't as if we were best buds yet. My mind was still trying to comprehend that he was my brother. Being raised as an only child for the first third of my life made it hard to comprehend.

I sucked in a deep breath and tapped out a message. 

**To: Armin**

**i’m new at this sibling stuff so sorry if i suck**

Before I could think twice about it, I sent it. Now, all that was left to do was wait. Sitting up, I pulled the blanket around my shoulders and popped my neck. It made several satisfying sounds. I looked around, but I wasn’t sure what exactly I was looking for. A distraction, I guess. 

Turns out I didn’t need to wait long for a distraction or a reply. The boys strode in the door at the same time my phone went off, both scaring me nearly to death. We both knew which event won my attention first. 

**From: Armin**

**No problem :D**

No problem?  _ No problem? _ What the fuck was that supposed to mean. Ugh, I’m not good at this shit. Is he saying it’s okay if I end up being a total asshole? Is he trying to tell me it’s fine for not knowing how to talk to him in the first place? To somebody else, those two things might be the same thing, but for me, they were two distinctly different things. 

Good God. This is why I never had any friends as a kid. 

**From: Armin**

**What’s your favorite color?**

Weird question.

**To: Armin**

**Green why**

Jean grunted as he set his plethora of bags down on the floor in the kitchen. From the looks of it, the two of them went grocery shopping together. Thankfully, neither of them had a broken lip from fighting. I remember one time when they were bickering, and Eren opened the door to a freezer quickly, angrily when Jean wasn’t paying attention. It was the funniest thing ever watching Jean run smack into the glass. The look on his face was priceless. 

**From: Armin**

**Trying to get to know you duh**

I snorted and rolled my eyes. 

**To: Armin**

**What’s yours?**

**And if u say Eren’s green eyes imma have to kill you**

“What all did you get?” I asked.

Eren started taking stuff out of the bags and putting them on the countertop. “While you were practicing your impression of a foghorn, Jean and I went and got some groceries before we all starve to death.”

“Maybe if you didn’t graze all night we wouldn’t have this problem,” Jean shot back. Thankfully, his tone was teasing and not accusatory. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle them full out fighting again. 

“Graze?” Eren raised his eyebrows and started stuffing empty plastic sacks into one of the plastic sacks. 

“Yeah. I don’t think you’ve made a nighttime trip to the bathroom without going by the kitchen to eat something in all the years I’ve known you.”

Eren squinted and looked like he was about to say something, but it never came. Probably because we all knew Jean was right. Eren could eat his weight in chicken lips and mashed potatoes if we let him. 

We never let him.

My phone chimed again from where I’d buried it in my back pocket. 

**From: Armin**

**Wow *gasp* how did you know??? Jk. I was gonna say the color of his hair. My favorite color used to be blue but wow when I saw him I just knew.**

**To: Armin**

**Real fuckin rich kid**

I looked up to see Eren looking at me. “Ymir has a  _ real friend _ ? Wow, Jean. I think we should give her a gold star, don’t you?”

Jean simply rolled his eyes dramatically and went back to putting the food away in the correct spots. 

**From: Armin**

**XD**

**What’s up?**

**To: Armin**

**Babysitting your pussy**

Jean boosted himself up onto the counter. “Eren, I think she’s out to steal your girl.” I snorted and covered my mouth to hide my grin.

Eren turned around slowly from where he was crouched putting something under the sink to look at Jean. “What did you just say to me?”

Jean gave him an innocent look. “Did I stutter?”

**From: Armin**

**But I don’t have a cat???**

**Oh.**

**OH.**

**Do you mean Eren?**

**To: Armin**

**Wow. Yes.**

I looked up to find Jean still on the counter, teasing Eren some more with a laugh that almost seemed a bit shy. It was to be expected, I guess. Rome wasn’t built in a day. 

**To: Armin**

**Btw if u hurt Eren i will desorty you**

**Destroy***

**From: Armin**

**D: I wouldn’t ever hurt anybody on purpose.**

I squinted at my phone. He had a point. You couldn’t always choose if somebody else got hurt by your actions. Looking up at Jean who was now fixing something for dinner and Eren who was now sitting on the counter instead, I realized this was definitely true. I knew that Eren never wanted to hurt Jean, but he also was doing something for himself. 

It was strange, really, the amount of blame people placed on others. Jean’s feelings certainly weren’t Eren’s  _ fault _ , and it also wasn’t Jean’s fault for having those feelings. 

**To: Armin**

**Good.**

* * *

Dinner was good per usual. I liked to tell Jean that if he hadn’t made it in the psychology world, he should’ve gone to culinary school. He would always just wave me off and say it wasn’t that good compared to his mother’s cooking. Which always made me wonder how good she was because if Jean thought his cooking was semi-average then his mom’s must be orgasmic. 

Eren and I kept watching Jean to make sure he ate enough, but he seemed fine. Maybe it was all the exercise he’d been getting lately--it was making him hungry. Whatever it was, I knew I was going to keep watching just in case. 

Armin and I kept texting for most of the night. I really wanted to get to know him more. He seemed like a sweet kid, and I can only imagine how rough of a time he must’ve had growing up. As he was telling me about his life, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between us.

He told me that his mom gave him to her parents and left without a trace--just like me. The only contact he’d had with her were the late-night calls from payphones on her end. His grandparents have always done the best they could to raise him, so he thought it was only fair to get good grades to get more scholarships and reduce the burden college would put on them. When he was a junior in high school, his grandmother passed away from a stroke, and his grandfather nearly died from a broken heart. 

Apparently, Armin was attending Shiganshina on an academic scholarship--that struck me as coincidental too since I was finishing up my degree there online when I had the time. He’d made plenty of friends there, and his roommates were nice. They’d actually been the reason he and Eren had met. They’d gone to one of our shows, gotten a little too tipsy, and left him there by accident when Eren found him and brought him home. 

Jesus, what was with these boys and bringing home stray people from the same bloodline? It’s like we were Pokemon or something-- _ gotta catch ‘em all! _

Once he was finished, I told him how my mom dumped me with my--our--father. I told him how he really wasn’t a bad dad--he was caring and compassionate--and he never once came onto me. I told him how he’d been convicted for pedophilia and sexual assault, how I’d been thrown into the system, how I ran away, and how I ended up with the boys. I didn’t tell him anything about Eren--or about how he and Jean had been in a romantic relationship of sorts for about a decade--seeing as how that was Eren’s story to tell and not mine. 

That night, I laid in bed after saying goodnight and just… thought. I was still adjusting to the idea of there being another human being I was related to by blood--other than my deadbeat mom; she didn’t count. 

What if we’d grown up in the same household? What if he was my brother legitimately and not because of a rape? Would we have gotten along or would the age difference had made things weird? Would my social and school lives have turned out better since I would’ve been a role model for a younger human being?

With a sigh, I rolled over and pulled the covers up around my neck. There was no use wondering about the “what ifs”--the cards had been dealt already, and all that was left to do was decide what I was going to do with them. 

* * *

Things over the next several days got hectic. Pixis had called us in the finalize the details of our contract. I won’t bore you with the details, but we all learned how to pull it together long enough to have a meeting with him. The contract covered how he would let us use his building whenever we needed to, how he’d help us find other venues, our pay, help with recording professionally, publicity, and all this other shit I hadn’t quite thought about before. 

We all also realized on Wednesday evening that Thanksgiving was the next day. We’d never been ones to truly celebrate often since we simply never had the funds to do so, but with a new, steady income, we decided that this year would be perfect. After all, we had plenty to be thankful for--well,  _ I _ did at least. 

Eren went to the closest store at about midnight to get a turkey and whatever other supplies Jean had texted to him. We decided to have sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole--fuck me backward--the turkey, and apple and pumpkin pie. Unfortunately, all the turkeys were gone, so we settled for a nice chicken. None of us were bothered by it. A bird was a bird was a bird as far as eating taste was concerned. 

Thursday morning, the three of us got up to prepare. Jean let me peel the potatoes--we were having  _ real _ mashed and sweet potatoes; none of this can or powder shit for today--while he fixed our over glorified chicken. Eren darted around the apartment, putting away anything that we wouldn’t need for the winter--changing the curtains to a thicker set to keep the cold out, making sure the door and windows were sealed properly, putting our thin summer clothes into totes to store in the spare closet, and other things that needed to be done. 

By the time we sat down for dinner--more like a super late lunch--I was practically bursting with… something. Gratitude? Happiness? Maybe it was excitement. Hell, I don’t know. Gathered around the table, we all realized that we had a lot to be thankful for, as cliche as it sounded. We had a contract--a steady income--and this was the longest we’d stayed in an apartment--about three years now already. We all had our music, and without that, who knows what the fuck would’ve happened to us?

Personally, I was thankful for having my support group with me all these years, and I was also thankful for having a brother too. Call me selfish, but it was almost nice to have somebody else shouldering the burden of our father with me. 

The feeling buzzing through me, I realized when I was helping put leftovers in Tupperware containers, was gratefulness. Everybody deserved to have friends that stuck with them through thick and thin, and I was lucky enough to have found mine. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb and whatnot. 

I wondered what the next year would hold for us. Where would we be? Who would we know? Would we all still be together?

_ That was stupid, Ymir. Of course, you’ll all still be together in some way, shape, or form.  _ We had a band to play in after all. 

* * *

Later that night, I leaned back against the wall in my room with my guitar in my lap, quietly strumming chords. The boys had gone to sleep long ago, but I wasn’t tired. The night was still and quiet. Snow had been falling since the sun had gone down, and the streetlights cast a warm glow on the streets below us. Winter was in about a month already. Where had the time gone?

I plucked out another chord. I’d made sure to text Armin and tell him happy Thanksgiving too with an obnoxious amount of emojis. It took him awhile to answer, but I wasn’t offended. He was probably chilling with his grandpa or something. At least I hoped so anyway. 

Strum. “Hot cross buns…” Strum. “Hot cross buns…” Strum. “Duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh. Hot.” Strum. “Cross.” Strum. “Bunssss.”

This was what nobody tells you about insomnia--you can get so  _ bored _ . There’s nothing to do, but you sure as shit can’t sleep.

With a sigh, I got up and put my guitar back in my case. There was no use turning on the TV since there was nothing good on at 2 AM on a Friday. I didn’t have any books to read, and nobody was awake at this time. 

Curling up in my bed on my side under the covers, I opened up Facebook and started scrolling, pausing when I saw the list of people I might know. A familiar face beamed up at me from my screen. I immediately tapped the “Add Friend” button, and the request was sent to Armin. I kept swiping through from the hell of it and was pleasantly surprised to find another blonde--albeit much prettier--popping up on the list. My finger hovered over the screen before I finally told myself to stop being such a pussy and sent Historia a friend request. 

Surprisingly, she accepted it two minutes later. I opened up Messenger and typed in her name. 

**Ymir Gray:** What r u doing up?

Her reply was almost instantaneous.

**Historia Reiss:** I could ask you the same question. 

**Ymir Gray:** True

**Ymir Gray:** Insomnia?

**Historia Reiss:** Nah. Watching scary movies with my roommate. He’s too much of a wimp to watch by himself :’D

**Ymir Gray:** Whatcha watchin?

**Historia Reiss:** Lights Out

_ Historia Reiss changed your name to Hot Guitarist™. _

I blinked at my phone screen for a moment. I honestly couldn’t tell you what I was thinking. It was as if my brain had gone totally blank. She thought I was hot? But wait… This was the first time we’d ever had a conversation. Like a real one that wasn’t because I fainted. She didn’t seem the type of person to just call somebody hot. At least to their face. 

**Historia Reiss:** I’m so sorry. My idiot roommate took my phone. 

Oh. That made more sense. 

**Hot Guitarist™:** Lol it’s okay

So… she didn’t find me hot then. What a shame. 

_ Historia Reiss changed your name to Ymir. _

_ Historia Reiss changed her name to Historia. _

**Ymir:** Your roommate sounds like a riot

**Historia:** God you have no idea. 

**Historia:** He tried to convince me once that his brother was a tall gray.

**Ymir:** Tall gray????

**Historia:** Alien.

**Ymir:** Right of course

**Ymir:** Did it work???

**Historia:** … 

**Ymir:** Oh my god it did

**Historia:** In my defense, his brother started acting like an alien whenever I was around so shut up. 

I shook my head and tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear. I couldn’t believe this. I kinda wanted to meet her roommate just so I could give him and his brother a gold star

**Ymir:** If u say so

**Ymir:** What does an alien act like???

**Historia:** Totally not the point.

**Ymir:** Okay okay ;)

**Historia:** Well I’m going to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

**Ymir:** Okay. Night. 

I closed the window and set my phone on my bedside table.  _ She said she’d talk to me tomorrow _ . This caused a big, stupid grin to spread across my face. I was certainly taking this as a huge improvement from that first time when she’d snubbed me that night at the end of our concert. She was actually  _ talking  _ to me and not against her will. 

Good god. I was turning into some prepubescent teenager with a crush. Like  _ that  _ was going to ever happen again. I hadn’t had a legitimate crush on anybody--I hadn’t had the emotional stability for it. Every person I’d liked had ended up as a fling. The longest relationship I’d ever been in was approximately two weeks long. Psychology would probably say I had commitment issues since my whole family either ditched me or died but still--technicalities. 

If I was supposed to get with this chick, it was gonna happen. I wasn’t gonna stew about it. Nope. Not at all. I wasn’t going to think about what her hair must feel like between my fingers or how smooth her cheek would be under my palm or…

“Ugh!” I flopped a pillow over my head and told my brain to shut the fuck up. Thankfully, it listened enough for me to fall asleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't have a song for this one. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome! I also have a [tumblr.](https://live-love-music1.tumblr.com/)


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